THE 

CONQUERING 
OF  KATE 


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BY  xJ.RTvvoWBRAY 


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THE  CONQUERING  OF  KATE 


BOOKS    BY 
J.  P.  MOWBRAY 

("J.  p.  M.") 

A  Journey  to   Nature 

Tangled  Up  in  Beulah  Land 

The  Making  or  a  Country  Home 

The  Conquering  of  Kate 


THE 

CONQUERING  OF  KATE 


J.  P.  MOWBRAY 

("J.  P.M.") 


NEW  YORK 

DOUBLEDAY,  PAGE  &  COMPANY 

1903 


Copyright,  igo?,  by 

Doublcday,  Page  &  CompaOF 

Published,    April.    1903 


PREFACE 

What  this  story  is  in  its  completion  a  sincere 
modesty  prevents  me  from  saying.  What  it  was 
intended  to  be  I  am  permitted  to  acknowledge,  and 
thus,  perforce,  place  in  the  reader's  hand  that  wand 
which  enables  him  to  measure  the  gap  between  inten- 
tion and  accomplishment. 

It  was  intended  to  be  a  romance  of  a  passing 
phase  of  American  life,  written  con  amore,  out  of  the 
imagination,  but  dealing  as  it  passed  with  some 
mysteries  of  our  human  nature  that  are  not  passing 
phases,  but  abiding  problems.  I  have  to  acknowledge 
my  indebtedness  throughout  the  task,  less,  indeed,  to 
those  formal  assistants  that  so  readily  leap  from  the 
shelves  to  our  hand,  than  to  a  kindly  magician  who 
came  in  peaceful  hours  of  isolation,  and,  like  Faith 
itself,  was  not  only  able  to  remove  mountains,  but 
to  create  them. 


2138213 


CONTENTS 

Chapter 

I.  A  Natural  Impulse     . 
II.  The    Overseer     . 

III.  The  Crushing  of  John  Burt 

IV.  Backward 
V.  Subtle  Antagonisms 

VI.  Renewed   Chumship 
VII.  The  Judge  Also  Dances  a  Minuet 
VIII.  The  Witch's  Run 
IX.  Gossamer  Trifles 
X.  The  Triumph  of  Weakness 
XI.  "Plum    Honey" 
XII.  Some  Wild  Rosebuds 

XIII.  The    Onus    Probandi 

XIV.  Sisterly  Intervention 
XV.  A  Thunderstorm 

XVI.  "Y'r  Couldn't  be  Squar^ 
XVII.  The  Unexpected 
XVIII.  "Heart  Failure" 
XIX.  A  Revelation 

XX.  The  Devil's  Link  in  the  Chain  of  Nature 
and  Other  Links  Not  so  Satanic 


PAGE 

3 

14 

38 

39 

65 

80 

100 

129 

143 
156 

17s 
194 
204 
217 
229 

251 
261 
276 
290 

300 


THE  CONQUERING  OF  KATE 


THE  CONQUERING  OF  KATE 

CHAPTER   I 
A  Natural  Impulse 

NOTWITHSTANDING  the  constant  reminder  of 
roses,  the  air  at  Bourgeon ville  is  astonishingly- 
pure.  In  the  uplands  it  is  diluted  by  an  ether 
that,  it  is  said,  makes  the  heart  and  the  lungs  work 
faster,  as  if  they  were,  indeed,  trying  to  get  more 
of  it. 

The  late  Colonel  Fairfax  Bussey  always  spoke  of  the 
atmosphere  as  one  of  his  assets,  and  he  was,  without 
doubt,  one  of  the  best  examples  in  Franklin  County 
of  its  vitalizing  effects.  His  domain  was  in  an  inter- 
mediate zone,  neither  North  nor  South,  except  as  it  was 
set  off  by  an  arbitrary  cartographic  Hne  that  still  carries 
the  name  of  Mason  and  Dixon.  But  no  one,  descending 
suddenly  upon  Bourgeonville,  could  tell  by  the  flora, 
the  architecture,  or  the  colour  of  the  servants,  that  he 
was  not  in  Virginia,  the  misty  peaks  of  which  were 
sometimes  dimly  discernible  on  a  clear  day  across 
the  intervening  strip  of  Maryland. 

The  late  Colonel  Fairfax  Bussey  lived  and  died  at 
Bourgeonville,  though  the  town  itself  never  came  up,  as 
he  had  hoped,  to  his  broad  acres,  but  with  the  crassness 
of  all  incipient  towns  stretched  itself  in  an  opposite 
direction  and  left  him  there  in  his  patriarchal  paradise, 
a  highly  respected  and  altogether  magnificent  example 

3 


4  THE  CONQUERING  OF  KATE 

of  the  ancient  regime  who,  I  dare  say,  rather  resented 
at  heart  the  inevitable  encroachments  of  enterprise. 

The  place  is  put  down  on  the  early  township  maps  as 
Catalpa  Grange,  a  fanciful  title,  long  fallen  into  disuse 
except  by  the  older  members  of  the  family.  It  must 
have  been  conferred  by  the  Colonel's  mother,  who  built 
the  house  in  the  early  forties  and  brought  with  her 
from  Virginia  the  catalpa  trees  that  for  the  most  part 
have  now  given  way  to  chestnuts. 

It  is  the  last  of  May,  and  the  house  and  grounds, 
enswathed  in  the  morning  sunshine,  wear  a  soft  aspect 
of  dignified  neglect  curiously  intermingled  with  the 
reckless  opulence  of  Nature.  The  spacious  mansion  at 
the  top  of  the  rise,  planted  against  the  weedy,  crescent- 
shaped  terraces,  glimmers  at  you  through  the  foliage, 
with  its  Corinthian  portico,  its  white  wings  and  its 
green  shutters,  one  or  two  of  which  are  slightly  awry, 
with  a  familiar,  reminiscent  and  pleasantly  melancholy 
air  as  of  the  past,  in  which  there  is  a  dowager  dignity 
and  exclusiveness,  almost  defiant  one  would  say,  of 
time  and  change. 

You  know  these  old  houses  well  if  you  have  traveled 
and  mused  in  the  farther  South.  Their  decrepit  manorial 
hauteur  always  brings  to  you  with  a  softened  pathos 
the.  legends  of  patriarchal  days  when  the  colonial  spirit 
followed  in  the  footsteps  of  adventure,  and  homes, 
hewed  out  of  the  wilderness,  were  also  castles  and 
sanctuaries. 

But  planted  suddenly,  as  I  am  trying  to  plant  you, 
on  one  of  the  terraces  in  front  of  this  old  mansion,  I 
doubt  that  without  my  knowledge  of  the  house's  history 
you  would  give  much  attention  to  its  familiar  aspect. 
You  would  be  dazed — I  almost  said  intoxicated — by 
the  natural  beauty  of  the  surroundings,  and  I  feel  sure 


A   NATURAL   IMPULSE  5 

would  not  resent  my  having  called  it  a  paradise.  You 
might  even  fancy  for  the  moment  that  I  had  dropped 
you  in  one  of  the  vales  of  Lombardy  or  put  you  softly 
down  in  the  south  of  France;  the  sky  is  so  deeply  blue, 
and  the  breeze  from  the  Shenandoah  Valley  is  so  capri- 
ciously soft  that  you  can  almost  swear  you  smell  the 
Mediterranean.  Then,  too,  there  is  over  all  that  still, 
drowsy,  chalet  air,  as  if  the  place  had  been  maturing 
and  toning  for  a  hundred  years,  and  the  sunshine,  like 
old  wine,  were  riper  than  you  had  ever  known  it,  and 
the  roses — such  great,  lusty  growths  of  them,  already 
flushing  the  east  wing  with  riotous  profusion — were 
the  children  of  untold  generations. 

The  house  has  not  been  painted  in  six  years — that 
is,  since  the  Colonel  died.  But  the  roses  have  covered 
the  marks  of  neglect  and  the  June  grass  is  already 
high  along  the  foundations,  fringing  all  the  approaches 
with  protective  and  luxurious  impudence.  Westward 
the  tableland  on  which  the  house  stands  is  shadowy 
with  grotesque  apple  trees.  Eastward  the  grove  shuts 
off  Bourgeonville,  and  southward,  close  to  earth  in  the 
indigo  sky,  are  some  bellying  white  clouds  crawling  along 
the  horizon  like  the  wings  of  aerial  frigates,  themselves 
hull  down. 

If  you  listen  you  will  hear  nothing  but  the  drone  of 
the  bees  in  the  roses  and  an  occasional  note  of  a  robin, 
strangely  bell-like  in  the  woods.  It  is  enchanted  ground. 
Something  would  tell  you  that  without  any  assistance 
from  me.  But  I  am  bound  to  add  that  there  is  also  a 
princess — shall  I  say  a  sleeping  princess?  No;  for 
there  she  comes  up  the  wood  road  on  a  white  mare. 

She  comes  limply  and  musingly  toward  the  house, 
her  mind  evidently  steeped  in  some  problem  of  her 
own  that  makes  her  indifferent  to  her  surroundings, 


6  THE  CONQUERING  OF  KATE 

but  withal  there  is  a  dignified  look  of  resolution  in  her 
young  face  as  if  she  meant  to  brave  the  problem,  what- 
ever it  was. 

The  mare  picked  her  way  leisurely  along  the  embroid- 
ered road  unguided,  dropping  her  head  now  and  then 
to  bite  at  the  tufts  of  grass,  and  once  coming  to  a  stand- 
still over  a  bunch  of  clover  without  a  remonstrance  from 
the  rider,  who  sat  upright  but  listless,  staring  into  the 
trees  ahead  of  her  without  seeing  them,  until,  suddenly 
recalled  to  herself,  she  said  softly,  "Go  on,  Cherry," 
and  once  more  proceeded  on  her  way,  lit,  as  it  were,  by 
flashes  as  the  sun  came  at  her  through  the  openings. 

The  old  riding-habit  that  she  wore  had  an  extempo- 
rized appearance  and  did  not  fit  her  very  snugly,  but  she 
sat  the  animal  with  the  unmistakable  and  unconscious 
ease  of  a  horsewoman.  And,  now  I  think  of  it,  how 
could  it  be  otherwise,  when  her  father,  the  late  Colonel,  if 
old  "  Unci  Dan'l "  is  to  be  believed,  had  her  on  a  stallion 
before  she  knew  the  Lord's  Prayer,  and  Unc'l  Dan'l 
ought  to  know,  for  it  was  one  of  his  proudest  duties 
to  show  visitors  the  two  handsome  prizes  that  she 
obtained  from  the  Franklin  Equestrian  Club  when  she 
was  seventeen,  which  prizes  still  hung  in  the  big  hall. 

The  late  Senator  Pettingill,  of  Kent,  who  knew  her 
grandmother,  the  original  Kate  of  the  Catalpas,  said 
that  Miss  Kate  was  a  replica.  But  this,  I  fancy,  was 
an  echo  of  the  expectations  of  the  second  generation. 
There  is  a  picture  of  the  grandmother,  painted  by 
Paradise,  hanging  in  ex-Governor  Fletcher's  home,  or 
was  two  or  three  years  ago,  and  there  certainly  was  a 
resemblance,  vague  but  insistent,  in  the  mien  rather 
than  in  the  expression  of  the  two  women,  one  of  whom 
must  have  been  thirty-eight  when  her  picture  was 
taken,  while  the  other  was  now  only  twenty-one.     It 


A  NATURAL  IMPULSE  7 

was  a  constant  remark  in  her  family  that  she  looked 
like  her  grandmother  "in  a  certain  light,"  and  I  suspect 
that  this  light  was  her  own.  She  had  the  distinctively 
arched  eyebrows  of  the  picture,' a  feature  that  gave  her, 
in  certain  serious  moods,  an  appearance  of  hauteur  that 
was  not  warranted  by  the  softer  lines  of  her  mouth  and 
the  melting  possibilities  of  her  eyes.  It  is  difficult  to 
trace  a  resemblance  in  complexion,  and  yet  it  is  the 
impression  of  lustrousness  in  the  girl's  face — that  odd 
illusion  of  a  light  shining  through — that  takes  one  back 
to  the  picture.  And  this  characteristic  must  have 
been  familiar  to  the  family,  for  I  find  among  the  treas- 
ured sayings  of  Unc'l  Dan'l  the  remark  that  "  Dis  yar 
chile  shine  in  de  dark,  suah,"  a  bit  of  affectionate 
exaggeration  upon  which  I  cannot  improve  at  the 
moment,  as  Kate,  wrapped  in  her  thoughts,  rides  up 
the  slant  of  the  wood  road  and  comes  out  in  front  of 
the  portico. 

Once  there,  she  slipped  easily  from  the  animal  and  let 
it  proceed  around  the  comer  of  the  house.  Then  catch- 
ing up  her  skirt,  she  mounted  the  steps.  Before  she 
was  fairly  at  the  top,  the  hall  door  opened  and  two 
women,  who  must  have  been  watching  her  through  the 
blinds,  came  out  to  meet  her.  One,  young,  eager  and 
exuberant,  is  her  sister  Sylvia.  The  other,  coming  after 
more  deliberately  and  with  well-suppressed  anxiety, 
is  her  father's  sister — Aunt  Sussex  Bussey.  One,  in  a 
white  dress,  rushed  at  Kate  immediately.  The  other 
stood  a  little  way  off  in  black  silk  and  corsets,  with  well- 
disciplined  anxiety. 

"It  isn't  true,  is  it?"  cried  Sylvia.  "What  did  you 
do?    Tell  us  all  about  it." 

Kate  stood  at  one  of  the  fluted  columns  that  sup- 
ported the  portico.     She  unconsciously  fell  into  a  pose 


8  THE  CONQUERING  OF  KATE 

as  she  lifted  her  gloved  hand,  still  holding  the  riding- 
whip,  and  leaned  against  the  pillar  looking  dreamily 
into  the  misty  South ;  and  there  was  presented  on  the 
little  stage  of  the  veranda  a  household  tableau  of 
which  the  tall  girl  at  the  front  was  at  once  the  pictorial 
principal,  emphasizing  in  her  attitude  no  less  than  in 
her  statelier  calmness  the  unlikeness  to  her  sister 
Sylvia,  who,  two  years  younger,  betrayed  by  her 
suspended  eagerness  and  impatience,  not  alone  the  more 
useful  impulses,  but  a  more  impetuous  temperament. 
The  higher  colour  of  the  younger  sister,  her  half-open 
mouth,  ready  for  ejaculation  and  showing  her  little 
white  teeth  made  to  snap  at  something,  declared  the 
girlishness  come  to  the  edge  of  womanhood  without 
knowing  it  and  joyously  indifferent  with  superabundant 
health  to  all  the  responsibilities  of  being  a  woman. 

Miss  Sussex  Bussey  sat  down  in  a  Quaker  rocker. 
There  was  about  her  a  certain  bird-like  fragility  in 
spite  of  her  stiff  and  precise  air.  Her  smallest  move- 
ment had  a  gentle  rustle  above  and  a  small  creak  below, 
and  it  was  very  evident  from  the  solemnity  of  her  satiny 
pink  face  that  she  felt  this  to  be  a  moment  in  which  her 
judicial  capacity  was  to  be  tested.  The  responsibility 
of  preserving  the  dignity  of  the  house  against  all  odds 
and  with  few  resources  had  worn  some  revered  wrinkles 
in  her  kindly  face.  In  a  word,  she  was  a  motherly, 
simple-minded  dame  of  the  old  school  who  had  heroic- 
ally preserved  her  authority  of  demeanour  at  the 
expense  of  complaisance. 

"Well,  I  declare  !  "  cried  Sylvia.  "Are  you  going  to 
speak  to  us  ?     Is  it  as  bad  as  we  suspected  ? " 

"It  is  worse,"  replied  Kate,  still  staring  with  a  set 
expression  of  face  into  the  South,  and  her  voice  had 
a  warm  depth  in  it  unlike  the  pitch  and  timbre  of 


A   NATURAL   IMPULSE  9 

Sylvia's.  "Not  only  is  it  all  true,"  she  said,  "but  it 
is  incredibly  infamous." 

"My  dear,"  said  her  aunt,  as  she  adjusted  her  skirts, 
"I  wish  you  would  turn  round  and  talk  calmly  and 
intelligently,  then  I  shall  know  what  to  do.  My 
decision  must  depend  upon  your  information.  Is  the 
place  to  be  sold?" 

"Worse  than  that." 

"Worse?"  repeated  her  aunt,  tapping  her  old- 
fashioned  slipper  on  the  flooring — the  slipper  was 
fastened  to  her  foot  by  two  black  ribbons  crossing  her 
instep.  It  was  as  if  her  suppressed  anxiety,  so  well 
managed  in  her  pink  face,  had  broken  softly  loose  at 
the  extremity.  "There  is  nothing  worse  than  that," 
she  said.  "You  forget  that  I  will  not  recognize  any- 
thing to  be  worse." 

"Aunty,"  said  Kate,  "it  is  not  to  be  expected  that 
you  will  recognize  the  inevitable.  It  is  your  privilege 
not  to.  The  place  is  not  to  be  sold  under  the  hammer 
— at  least,  not  at  present.  A  superintendent  or  overseer 
has  been  appointed  by  the  Court  for  the  creditor.  I 
believe  he  is  from  the  North.  He  is  coming  here  to  run 
things — that  is  the  wretched  phrase.  Do  you  know 
what  it  means?  Public  sentiment  in  Franklin  would 
not  permit  them  to  eject  us  with  violence,  so  we  are  to 
be  frozen  out.  The  superintendent  will  plow  up  the 
terraces  and  cut  down  the  timber  and  block  the  way  to 
our  last  retreat  with  bricks  and  mortar  and  make  our 
lives  miserable  with  Italian  labourers  and  assassins." 

Her  air  of  contempt  and  indignation  was  both  heroic 
and  martyr-like  as  she  poured  out  this  speech  with 
a  rich  round  voice  and  whipped  the  fluted  column 
nervously, 

Sylvia    was    more    curious    than    frightened.     Her 


lo  THE  CONQUERING  OF  KATE 

hands  came  together  impulsively  as  if  undetermined 
whether  to  wring  themselves  or  to  applaud. 

"  Heavens ! "  she  said.     "  What  are  we  to  do  ? " 

"We  can  at  least  be  calm  and  sensible,"  said  Aunt 
Sussex.  "No  one  can  invade  our  premises  without 
our  permission." 

Kate  shrugged  her  shoulders.  "I  am  afraid,"  she 
said,  "that  our  premises  and  our  permission  both 
belong  to  the  same  illusion.  Judge  Heckshent  is  not 
brutal  enough  to  expect  to  wring  the  principal  from  us, 
but  he  is  unscrupulous  enough  to  declare  that  the  place 
shall  be  made  to  pay  the  interest.  It  is  an  entirely 
masculine  and  practical  view,  and  we  are  only  women. 
If  we  had  his  common  sense  I  suppose  we  should  see 
that  it  is  a  duty  to  have  the  grounds  blown  up  with 
dynamite  and  the  house — my  father's  house — pulled 
down  over  our  heads." 

The  younger  pair  of  eyes  began  to  stare  as  this  dire 
picture  presented  itself  to  her  vision.  She  had  been 
over  to  the  Tuscarora  Quarries  more  than  once  to  see 
her  friend  Penelly  Seton,  where  there  was  a  ghastly 
chaos  of  stone  and  mules,  and  somehow  that  dreadful 
picture  always  associated  itself  in  her  mind  with  dyna- 
mite and  improvement.  She  saw  at  once  the  old 
plaisance  upturned,  the  ancestral  trees  lying  across 
each  other  with  their  dirt-clogged  roots  in  the 
air,  and  mounds  of  raw  earth  heaped  up  around 
the  house,  with  narrow  planks  on  top  for  the  ladies 
of  the  manse  to  walk  on.  Her  fair  round  face  was 
full  of  innocent  wonder.  She  somehow  reached  the 
other  fluted  column,  and  for  a  moment  these  two 
women  converted  the  portal  into  a  gateway  of 
loveliness  that  should  have  protected  it  even  from 
Northern  invasion. 


A   NATURAL   IMPULSE  ii 

"Do  you  know,"  exclaimed  Sylvia,  "I  think  it  is 
altogether  too  ridiculous  to  be  true." 

Aunt  Sussex  paid  no  attention  to  her.  "Kate,"  she 
said,  "I  must  remind  you  that  even  creditors  in  this 
county  cannot  override  the  rights  of  our  family 
nor  defy  public  opinion  even  by  due  process  of 
law." 

"Aunty,"  replied  Kate  a  little  testily,  "our  rights  are 
quite  incapable  of  paying  the  interest.  If  our  neighbour 
does  not  regard  our  rights  or  our  feelings  it  is  quite 
unlikely  that  a  stranger  will.  Judge  Heckshent  cannot 
in  decency  move  our  poor  old  chattels  into  the  highway, 
but  he  can  make  it  so  uncomfortable  for  us  here  that  we 
shall  be  glad  to  escape.  In  that  case,  he  will  effect  his 
purpose  and  avoid  public  indignation." 

"Why,  Uncle  Caleb  would  never  in  the  world  do  such 
a  thing!"  exclaimed  Sylvia. 

"My  child,"  said  Aunt  Sussex,  "whatever  takes 
place,  we  must  preserve  our  self-respect.  A  superin- 
tendent cannot  trespass  on  our  grounds  without  our 
permission." 

"If  the  superintendent  is  a  practical  man,"  replied 
Kate,  "he  will  execute  brutally  all  the  Judge's  orders, 
while  his  master  smiles  and  apologizes  and  flatters  us. 
We  must  make  up  our  minds  to  submit  and  see  all 
the  tenderest  associations  of  our  home  trampled  into  the 
mud — ^unless — ^unless  it  is  not  too  late  in  life  to  become 
practical  ourselves." 

"That's  it !"  cried  Sylvia.  "Let's  be  practical  our- 
selves. Why  not  sell  everything  and  pay  the  interest  ? 
How  much  is  it  ?" 

Nobody  answered  this  question.  It  was  very  doubt- 
ful if  anybody  knew. 

"One  thing  is  very  certain,"  said  Aunt  Sussex,  now 


12  THE  CONQUERING    OF    KATE 

tapping  both  her  gartered  slippers  on  the  porch.  "We 
can  preserve  our  self-respect." 

"It  is  the  only  thing  that  will  bring  anything  in  the 
market,"  replied  Kate  vaguely;  "and  I  have  been  offered 
a  good  price  for  mine." 

"My  dear,"  said  her  aunt,  "if  you  expect  me  to  consult 
with  you  on  these  matters,  I  must  insist  that  you  talk 
like  a  Bussey — at  least,  while  I  am  present.  I  think 
you  ought  to  know  that  a  Bussey  never  permitted 
misfortune  to  interfere  with  her  decorum." 

She  got  up  from  the  chair  with  much  dignity  and 
rustle  and  asked,  "Did  you  see  the  Judge  ?" 

"No,"  replied  Kate.     "I  saw  that  person — his  wife." 

"And  you  cannot  see  how  painful  it  is  to  me  that 
you  should  so  demean  yourself." 

"I  wanted  to  know  the  truth,  and  I  got  it — rather 
more  defiantly  than  I  expected.  However,  it  was  just 
as  well  that  I  saw  her,  for  she  recalled  me  to  a  sense  of 
my  own  duty." 

At  this  she  strode  to  the  hall  door,  the  two  women 
looking  at  her  with  something  like  admiration,  for  at  that 
moment  she  seemed  to  come  out  fiashingly  as  the  real 
Kate  of  the  Catalpas. 

"What  are  you  going  to  do  ?"  asked  her  aunt. 

"I  am  going  to  write  to  Mr.  Joumingham.  You 
can  have  Pierson  bring  the  mare  back  and  wait  for  my 
letter." 

Then  she  was  gone,  and  the  two  women  stood 
looking  after  her. 

"She  should  have  done  it  a  month  ago,"  said  Aunt 
Sussex  reflectively. 

"Gracious  me!"  exclaimed  Sylvia,  sitting  down  on 
the  top  step. 

The  southwind  uttered  what  might  have  been  a  soft 


A  NATURAL   IMPULSE  13 

gasp,  but  it  was  the  familiar  breath  of  the  coming 
summer.  The  leaves  on  the  vines  executed  a  little 
tremolo,  but  it  was  their  custom.  And  Sylvia,  with  a 
vacant  but  very  charming  stare,  looked  dreamily,  as 
her  sister  had  done,  into  the  spell  around  her  without 
the  slightest  notion  that  Kate  had  in  one  sudden  impulse 
cleared  the  way  for  all  the  possibilities,  and  invited  all 
the  pains  of  this  story. 


CHAPTER   II 

The   Overseer 

The  interior  of  the  old  mansion  wore  the  aspect 
of  a  guarded  casket;  not  that  anybody  intended 
it  should,  but  try  and  imagine  a  house  without  a 
man  in  it  for  six  years.  It  acquires  an  atmosphere  of 
soft  remoteness,  as  if  wood  and  mortar  and  furniture, 
already  old,  could  take  on  something  of  the  suppressive 
privacy  of  women  themselves. 

There  was  a  time  when  the  house  echoed  to  heavy 
footfalls  and  authoritative  commands — shook  a  little 
with  brawling  laughter  and  occasional  lusty  old- 
fashioned  oaths;  but  a  silence  fell  on  the  house  when 
the  Colonel  died,  and  it  never  fairly  recovered  from 
the  three  days  of  hush  during  which  the  girls  went 
about  on  tiptoe,  with  red  eyes,  and  spoke  in  whispers. 

Now  and  then  Sylvia's  young  friend,  Penelly  Seton, 
a  delightful  little  chatterbox,  drove  over  in  her  basket 
phaeton  from  the  Quarries  and  fluttered  round  like  a 
yellow  butterfly.  Then  the  two  of  them,  without  any 
definite  purpose,  managed  to  freshen  up  matters  a  bit. 

The  rich  owner  of  the  Tuscarora  Quarries,  being  a 
widower,  had  no  other  glimmer  but  this,  and  he  allowed 
Penelly  to  flutter  pretty  much  as  she  pleased.  She 
always  came  to  the  Grange  unexpectedly,  and  went 
out  inexplicably,  as  if,  like  a  disappearing  flicker,  some- 
thing had  intervened.  Probably  she  shimmered  round 
the  Quarries  in  pink  and  white  in  much  the  same  way, 

14 


THE    OVERSEER  15 

for  the  men  called  her  "Waxworks"  with  a  coarse 
respectfulness  and  a  sense  of  her  antithesis  to  granite 
and  shale.  There  was  a  superstition  among  them 
that  she  was  pretty,  as  perhaps  the  boss's  daughter  was 
bound  to  be ;  but  the  poor  fellows  were  not  quite  able  to 
distinguish  between  what  is  petite  and  what  is  pretty, 
and  they  had  no  opportunity  of  comparing  her  with 
the  women  at  the  Grange.  She  was  at  least  a  pert 
and  dainty  contrast  to  the  lusty  wenches  who  trailed 
upon  the  fringes  of  the  Quarries.  Perhaps  she  was 
pretty.  It  is  not  easy  to  determine  these  matters.  But 
to  my  taste,  her  pink-and- white  face  and  yellow  curls 
suggest  those  French  dolls  that  our  sisters  long  ago 
carried  about  in  their  arms  and  hugged  immoderately 
because  they  were  so  unlike  babyhood  and  so  much  like 
precocious  French  ballet  dancers.  She  had,  I  fancy,  little 
incorrigibilities  and  pretty  little  envies  that  would  not 
have  been  put  up  with  even  by  Sylvia  if  there  had  been 
others  to  choose  from  in  the  paradise  of  Bourgeonville. 
If  Penelly  was  really  pretty,  it  was  when  she  was  not  close 
enough  to  Sylvia  to  invite  comparison.  Her  face  was 
too  sharp  at  the  bottom,  and,  with  the  wad  of  yellow 
hair,  too  broad  at  the  top,  not  to  make  one  turn  to  the 
companion  face  as  if  for  a  better  equilibrium.  Her 
big  blue  eyes,  too,  if  I  must  say  it,  always  had  a  side 
suggestion  of  dilution,  as  if  somehow  that  which  was 
meant  to  be  enthusiasm  was  half  water.  Her  vivacity 
was  delightfully  vacuous,  and  yet  it  was  insistent  and 
wedge-like,  and  always  seemed  to  be  on  the  alert  for  a 
crevice  of  tattle  that  could  be  pried  open  to  a  chasm 
of  gossip. 

One  morning  Penelly  came  over  and  the  two  of  them 
tried  to  make  the  old  house  lively,  opening  the  hall 
doors,  pulling  the  heavy  rockers  out  on  the  porch  with 


i6  THE  CONQUERING  OF  KATE 

much  bumping  and  screaming,  throwing  back  the 
shutters  in  the  parlour,  coaxing  up  old  melodies  on 
the  piano,  talking  very  loud  as  if  noise,  like  sunshine, 
would  brighten  matters.  But,  as  usual,  they  rounded 
up  their  frolic  in  Sylvia's  big  chamber  upstairs  in  the 
east  wing,  where  they  shut  the  door  softly  and,  turning 
the  key,  relapsed  into  the  more  guarded  privileges  of 
femininity.  Sylvia  suggested  that  her  friend  help 
her  mend  the  lace  curtains  from  the  parlour,  many 
washings  having  frayed  them  badly ;  but  no  sooner  were 
they  both  comfortably  seated  on  the  carpet  than  the 
unusual  sound  of  horse's  hoofs  on  the  gravel  brought 
them  both  to  the  window  with  a  jump,  and  there,  sure 
enough,  was  the  new  superintendent,  on  a  black  horse. 

He  had  ridden  up  to  the  entrance,  dropped  the  bridle, 
and,  twisted  about  in  the  saddle,  was  leisurely  admiring 
the  prospect. 

"Oh,"  cries  Penelly,  "isn't  he  a  dandy !" 

"Maybe  to  your  eyes,"  said  Sylvia.  "But,  you  must 
know  that  we  are  under  obligations  to  consider  him  a 
rufhan." 

Whereupon  Penelly  giggled,  and  the  rider,  hearing 
their  voices,  looked  up  and  took  off  his  hat,  at  which 
both  girls  instantly  dodged  behind  opposite  sides  of  the 
curtain,  and  Penelly  said: 

"Lands  !     He  must  have  heard  us  !" 

"I  wonder  if  he's  coming  in?"  asked  Sylvia. 

The  next  moment  she  had  run  out  impetuously  across 
the  hall  and  opened  Kate's  door. 

"Come  quick,"  she  said;  "here's  the  superintendent. 
You  can  see  him  from  my  window." 

"Shut  the  door,"  said  Kate.  "I  don't  want  to  see 
him." 

"But  he  may  come  in,  you  know." 


THE  OVERSEER  17 

"I  dare  say  he  is  quite  capable  of  it.  But  he  isn't 
coming  in  here.     Shut  the  door." 

Presently  Sylvia  was  back  in  her  own  room,  and, 
dropping  once  more  to  the  floor,  she  said : 

"You  watch  him,  Pen,  and  see  that  he  doesn't  steal 
anything,  and  tell  me  all  about  him,  I  mustn't  feel 
interested." 

"He's  coming  in — he's  coming  in,"  whispered  Penelly. 

Aunt  Sussex  was  prepared  for  the  visitor.  When 
the  old-fashioned  knocker  resounded  through  the  hall 
ominously  with  a  summons,  she  sent  Leesha,  their  one 
servant,  back  to  the  kitchen  with  extra  dignity,  saying, 
"I  will  attend  to  this,"  and  then  opening  the  hall  door 
guardedly  she  found  a  man  standing  there. 

"Is  this  Miss  Bussey  ?"  he  inquired  courteously. 

"Yes,"  replied  Aunt  Sussex  rather  grimly,  as  she  held 
the  door  one-third  open,  "Miss  Sussex  Bussey." 

He  bowed.  "I  am  sent  here,"  he  said,  "to  inspect 
the  place  with  a  view  to  its  improvement,"  and  handed 
her  his  card.  "I  thought  it  only  proper  to  pay  my 
repects  to  the  occupants  of  the  house." 

"You  could  have  consulted  the  convenience  of  the 
occupants  better,"  said  the  fragile  Aunt  Sussex,  doing 
her  best  to  bristle  in  a  most  unbirdlike  manner, 
"by  not  entering  the  grounds,  sir.  We  have  not 
solicited  your  valuable  assistance,  and  object  to  the 
improvements . ' ' 

He  looked  a  little  astonished  and  shrugged  his  shoul- 
ders. "I  thought,"  he  said,  "that  my  position  in  the 
matter  had  been  explained  to  you,  and  I  was  simply 
desirous  of  getting  your  views,  and  if  possible  of  serving 
you." 

"Our  views,  sir,  are  very  simple,"  replied  Aunt  Sussex, 
"and  easily  obtained.     We  consider  it  an  outrage  for  a 


i8  THE  CONQUERING  OP  KATE 

stranger  to  come  here  to  disturb  and  destroy  the  memo- 
rials of  two  generations.  As  for  the  interests  of  the 
Busseys,  the  family  has  always  been  able  to  look  after 
them  in  its  own  way  without  assistance." 

"Madam,"  said  the  young  man,  "I  am  sorry  to  see 
that  you  are  labouring  under  some  kind  of  misappre- 
hension. I  beg  your  pardon  for  having  intruded  upon 
you." 

It  was  curtly  but  not  unkindly  said.  He  lifted  his 
hat,  made  another  graceful  bow,  and  turning,  strode  off 
the  porch.  A  moment  later  he  had  mounted  his  horse 
with  an  easy  leap  and  was  proceeding  slowly  round  the 
house. 

Aunt  Sussex  shut  the  door  and  put  the  chain  upon 
it  carefully.  There  was  not  the  slightest  doubt  in  her 
mind  of  the  entire  success  of  the  interview.  She  had 
sustained  the  Bussey  dignity  in  the  face  of  an  intruder. 
She  went  up  to  Kate's  room,  put  on  her  glasses  and 
looked  at  the  card  in  her  hand.  There  was  nothing 
on  it  but  the  words,  simply  inscribed,  "John  Burt." 
So  she  threw  it  on  the  floor  and  sat  down  to  talk 
to  Kate. 

The  horseman  rode  away  westward  through  the  orchard 
for  half  a  mile  until  he  came  to  a  gate  leading  into  a  lane. 
There  Judge  Heckshent  awaited  him  on  a  rawboned 
horse,  as  if  by  agreement  and  as  if  he  had  desired  to  avoid 
the  house.  The  rigid  and  antique  gentleman,  in  a  claret- 
coloured  surtout  with  brass  buttons,  looked  like  a  remi- 
niscence in  the  green  lane.  His  long,  gaunt  figure,  with 
a  corresponding  gaunt  face  and  white  whiskers  shadowed 
by  a  broad-brimmed  felt  hat,  made  John  Burt  think  of 
Kentucky.  The  rigidity  of  demeanour  was  somewhat 
enhanced  by  a  black  silk  neckerchief  wound  about  his 
neck  as  a  cravat,  as  if  to  keep  up  the  tradition  of  the  old 


THE  OVERSEER  19 

stock  once  so  familiar,  from  which  his  somewhat  scrawny- 
neck  seemed  to  be  trying  to  escape.  The  slightly 
austere  venerableness  and  dignity  of  the  man  were  for- 
gotten in  a  few  minutes'  intimacy  on  account  of  the 
kindly  nature  which  underlaid  them. 

"Morning,  sir, "  he  said  in  a  slightly  high,  thin  key,  as 
he  gave  his  neck  a  twist,  a  habit  no  doubt  contracted 
when  the  aforementioned  stocks  were  in  vogue.  "You 
called?"  making  a  slight  motion  of  his  hand  in  the 
direction  of  the  house. 

"Yes, "  said  Mr.  Burt.  " It  was  in  my  way  and  only 
decent  to  pay  my  respects. " 

"  Did  you  pay 'em  ? " 

"  Hardly.     They  seemed  to  object  to  them. " 

"Constitutional  aversion  to  having  an)rthing  paid," 
said  the  Judge.  "Slammed  the  door  in  your  face,  I 
expect.  The  most  un-prac-ti-cable,  consamed  set  of 
thoroughbreds  that  were  ever  left  without  protection. " 

John  Burt  listened  with  as  little  interruption  as 
possible  while  they  rode  down  the  lane. 

"  Now,  I'll  show  you  the  finest  piece  of  land  in  southern 
Pennsylvania.  One  thousand  acres,  sir,  going  to  ruck 
and  ruin,  absolute  ruck  and  ruin,  with  these  women, 
God  bless  'em,  standing  guard  over  the  devastation  and 
hoodooing  everybody  who  tries  to  help  'em  pay  their 
honest  debts. " 

"It  seems  incredible,"  said  John  Burt,  "if,  as  you 
say,  they  are  intelligent  and  educated  women. " 

"They  weren't  educated  to  take  care  of  themselves. 
There  never  was  a  bigger-souled  man  on  top  of  the  earth 
than  Colonel  John — we  all  called  him  John,  but  his  name 
was  John  Fairfax.  There  wasn't  anything  in  Franklin 
that  he  couldn't  have  had  for  the  asking  before  the  war. 
But  he  run  his  establishment  on  Old  Virginia  lines,  and 


20  THE  CONQUERING  OF  KATE 

it  won't  do,  sir,  this  side  of  Mason  and  Dixon's.  He 
brought  up  his  girls  for  belles. " 

Mr.  Burt  saw  even  thus  early  in  his  acquaintance 
with  the  Judge  that  his  practical  obduracy  melted  away 
as  he  became  reminiscent.  The  old  man's  vehement 
objurgations  of  the  women  softened  into  something  like 
tenderness  as  he  traveled  backward  to  other  times. 

"Consarn  them,"  he  said,  as  he  twitched  his  neck  as 
a  man  might  who  feels  some  kind  of  noose  about  it. 
"You'll  find  out  what  it  is  to  deal  with  women  who  were 
calculated  to  live  in  another  world  than  ours.  " 

"  It  must  be  an  interesting  family,  at  all  events, "  said 
John  Burt,  there  being  no  call  for  his  saying  anything  in 
particular. 

"  I  calculate  they're  interesting  enough,  but  there  ain't 
the  first  notion  of  the  real  realities  anywhere  inside 
their  fences.  Kate  Bussey,  of  New  Kent,  built  that 
house  in  '41.  Marion  Bussey,  her  husband,  had  died 
and  left  her  a  handsome  Virginia  estate,  three  children 
and  two  hundred  niggers.  She  was  an  ingrained  Whig, 
and  her  husband  had  been  an  active  locofoco  of  the 
headlong  Southern  build.  What  did  she  do?  Why, 
sir,  she  freed  every  nigger  she  had,  and  when  it  got  too 
hot  for  her  in  Kent  she  put  the  estate  under  the  hammer, 
bundled  up  her  traps  and  started  with  her  family  for 
Pennsylvania,  yes,  sir,  followed  by  about  two  dozen 
niggers  who  wouldn't  be  shaken  loose.  I  disremember 
whether  she  bought  the  ground  in  '30  or  '40, 
though  I  drew  the  papers  myself.  She  used  to  ride 
down  here  on  a  gray  Indian  pony  from  Chambers  and 
overlook  the  work  when  the  house  was  building,  and  it 
wam't  easy  traveling  in  those  times.  Her  son  John 
took  after  his  father.  But  the  old  lady  kept  him  well 
in  hand  with  his  horses  and  dogs,  and  I  guess  he  was  as 


THE  OVERSEER  ai 

proud  of  the  place  when  it  was  finished  as  she  was. 
Well,  sir,  he  married  the  handsomest  girl  in  Baltimore, 
one  of  Judge  Toland's  daughters.  She  died  in  '63,  the 
day  after  we  got  the  news  of  Gettysburg.  She  lost  two 
brothers  in  that  fight,  sir.  Her  daughter  Kate  was 
eleven  years  old  at  the  time,  and  she  grew  up  under  my 
eye  from  the  time  she  was  christened,  and  that  was  a 
rousing  affair  in  those  days.  We  don't  see  the  likes  of 
it  down  here  now.  The  house  was  chock  full  of  com- 
pany— all  kinds  of  big  guns  from  Harrisburg  and 
Washington,  for  Colonel  John's  mother  had  figgered 
pretty  large  in  politics.  Yes,  sir,  we  had  James  Buchanan 
there.  He  was  Secretary  of  State  then,  and  looked  like 
a  Methodist  minister  in  his  white  neck-cloth,  and  Robert 
Gree  of  the  Supreme  Court,  and  some  of  the  Dallases  and 
John  R.  Crittenden  of  Kentucky.  Yes,  sir,  and  that 
little  baby  was  passed  around  and  toasted  in  Madam's 
wine,  and  everybody  predicted  that  she  would  preserve 
the  traditions  of  her  grandmother.  Colonel  John  was 
a  staunch  friend  of  mine,  and  many's  the  good  dinner, 
with  his  own  Southdown  mutton  on  the  table  and  his 
mother's  Madeira,  I've  eaten  in  that  house,  when  that 
girl  was  old  enough  to  sit  on  my  knee  and  pull  my 
whiskers  and  reach  her  little  arm  up  to  my  neck  and  call 
me  uncle.  It's  a  consamed,  mixed-up  tangle,  is  this 
life  of  ours,  sir,  and  sometimes  I  think  there  isn't  much 
in  it  for  a  man  when  he  reaches  my  age. " 

Here  the  Judge,  whose  voice  had  fallen  to  a  soft, 
reflective  tone,  came  to  a  full  stop,  and  the  men  rode  on 
silently  for  a  moment.     Presently  he  resumed: 

"What  I  was  going  to  tell  you  was  this:  Just  after 
the  war,  the  Colonel  got  badly  mixed  up  in  politics.  I 
don't  think  he-  was  quite  abreast  of  the  new  ideas.  He 
wanted  to  go  to  Congress  from  this  district  and  there  was 


22  THE  CONQUERING  OF  KATE 

a  strong  Northern  feeling  against  him.  I  knew  he  had 
been  Hving  pretty  extravagantly  in  Washington,  but  I 
didn't  know  how  straightened  he  was  till  he  came  to  me 
and  said:  'Caleb,'  says  he,  'I've  got  to  have  money  to 
win  this  fight.  There's  a  crowd  of  carpet-baggers  at 
Richmond  that  are  going  to  down  me  if  they  can,  but  I 
will  not  have  it.  I've  a  great  mind  to  mortgage  my 
place.'  I  advised  him  not  to  think  of  it,  but  he  was 
dead  set,  and  seeing  that  he  was  bent  on  it,  I  said 
finally,  'Well,  Colonel  John,  if  it  must  be,  you'd  better 
let  me  do  it  and  we  can  keep  the  thing  in  the  family.' 
I  lent  him  $20,000  and  he  was  beaten  at  the  polls.  He 
was  never  the  same  man  afterward.  If  he  had  lived  he 
could  have  taken  care  of  the  bond,  but  he  died  suddenly 
of  pneumonia.  It's  six  years  ago,  and  the  two  girls  were 
left  without  a  natural  protector. " 

"Yes,"  said  John  Burt,  "and  you  naturally  supplied 
the  deficiency." 

"  Young  man,  I  can  honestly  say  before  the  Lord  that 
I  tried  my  level  best  to  do  it.  But  what  did  they  do  but 
send  for  their  Aunt  Sussex  from  Tennessee,  and  she  is 
one  of  the  finest  bred  old  antediluvians  that  has  survived 
the  Secession  flood.  She  began  to  bar  and  bolt  every- 
thing, and  put  the  whole  place  on  the  defensive  the 
moment  she  got  here.  When  Colonel  John  was  lying 
in  that  room  in  the  east  wing  where  his  mother  had  died, 
he  said  to  me  in  his  rough,  hearty  manner  as  he  stretched 
his  hand  out:  'Caleb,  I'm  afraid  my  mutton's  cooked 
this  time  for  certain.  If  I  should  go  off,  you'll  look  after 
your  own  interests  in  this  estate  and  that's  all  right,  but 
I  depend  on  you  to  do  the  best  you  can  for  them  girls.' 
'Colonel,'  I  said,  'you  can  die  easy  so  far  as  that's  con- 
cerned. I  can't  be  the  father  to  'em  that  you  have  been, 
but  as  God  is  my  witness  I  can  be  the  next  best,  and  if 


THE  OVERSEER  23 

you  have  another  minute's  worry  on  that  score  you'll 
dishonour  my  friendship.'  He  squeezed  my  hand  and 
said  he  trusted  me,  and  he  died  that  night.  " 

"  It  seems  to  me, "  said  John  Burt,  who  felt  that  some 
kind  of  unbiased  remark  ought  to  be  interjected  occa- 
sionally, "it  seems  to  me  that  you  became  the  guardian 
of  the  family,  if  not  of  the  estate. " 

"Yes,  I  calculate  that  I  did  naturally  feel  in  that 
position.  But  the  estate  and  the  family  go  together. 
It's  six  years  now  this  last  November  since  Colonel  John 
died,  and  there  hasn't  been  a  cent  of  interest  paid  since, 
and  it's  according  to  nature  that  a  place  will  gravitate 
to  ruck  and  ruin  unless  there's  a  man's  hand  on  it.  Yes, 
sir,  I  rather  calculate  that  it's  my  duty  to  get  the 
interest  out  of  the  place." 

"It  is  incredible  to  me, "  said  John  Burt,  "  that  your 
efforts,  which  seem  to  be  directed  as  much  by  a  sacred 
obligation  as  by  self-interest,  should  not  be  understood.  " 

"Yes,"  replied  the  Judge,  "I  s'pose  'tis — I  s'pose  'tis, 
but  you'll  understand  it  better  when  you've  been  here 
longer.  There's  some  things  a  man  tries  all  his  life  to 
understand  and  ginerally  fails. " 

At  this  point  the  Judge  showed  an  inclination  to 
abaiidon  the  subject.  "I'll  show  you,"  he  said,  "the 
handsomest  park  in  this  State  going  to  ruck  and  ruin  in 
spite  of  God  Almighty  and  common  sense.  " 

But  John  Burt  showed  a  desire  to  know  something 
more  about  the  extraordinary  women. 

"The  heiress,  I  understand  you  to  say,"  he  observed 
with  qtute  as  much  indifference  as  was  decent,  "is 
quite  as  attractive  as  her  domain. " 

,  "Well,  sir,  as  to  good  looks,  I  s'pose  there  never  was 
two  opinions  in  Franklin  as  to  that.  But  it  don't  help 
matters  a  bit.     You  can't  expect  a  woman  who  has  been 


24  THE  CONQUERING  OF  KATE 

brought  up  as  a  belle  to  bother  much  with  the  prac-ti-cal 
affairs  of  life.  Why,  sir,  that  girl  could  have  married  a 
fortune.  We  all  thought  things  set  that  way  at  one 
time.  There  was  a  rich  Englishman  came  back  from 
Washington  with  them  two  years  ago  and  stayed  here 
all  summer.  We  all  allowed  it  was  a  match,  and  I  calcu- 
lated everything  would  fix  itself  for  all  of  us  in  the  best 
way.  Then  he  went  back  to  England — sacked,  I  under- 
stood— and  things  settled  down  to  where  they  are  now — 
chains  and  bolts  on  all  the  doors  and  a  fellow  with  a 
shotgun  in  the  coach-house.  It  makes  a  man  of  my 
age  blue. " 

John  Burt  was  a  younger  man  and  not  inclined  to  feel 
blue. 

"Perhaps,"  he  said,  "when  the  matter  is  presented 
to  them  in  the  proper  light  by  an  entirely  disinterested 
person,  they  will  see  it  more  clearly.  " 

The  Judge  shook  his  head.  "I  guess,"  he  said, 
"  'twill  be  plowing  in  an  old  crop.  You'd  better  go  your 
own  way,  and  maybe  between  us  we  can  pull  the  thing 
up  somehow  and  do  the  women  a  good  turn  in  spite 
of  'em." 

Then  the  Judge  shut  off  the  subject  and  began  point- 
ing out  the  beauties  of  the  place. 

Not  over  half  a  mile  north  of  the  mansion  ran  the  little 
Kitchomony,  the  land  sloping  gradually  to  its  wooded 
edge  on  one  side  and  rising  more  abruptly  on  the  other 
into  a  long  parallel  spur  heavily  timbered  and  known  as 
the  Kitchomony  Bluff,  which,  like  so  many  of  the  local 
names,  seemed  to  have  been  chosen  or  to  have  grown 
fast  without  much  reference  to  exactitude.  It  dimin- 
ished eastward  to  a  mere  bank  where  the  river  swept 
abruptly  round  its  base  and  went  sprawling  northward 
in  a  broad  shallow  lagoon. 


THE  OVERSEER  25 

This  long  hill  was  a  wilderness  of  underbrush  and 
wild  ilowers,  with  many  little  swales,  and  here  and  there 
the  limestone-and-shale  outcropping,  and  covered  with 
the  wild  phlox  and  hepatica.  The  riders  proceeded 
leisurely  along  the  south  bank,  winding  through  an 
avenue  dewy  and  mossy,  until  they  came  to  a  rude 
bridge  which  had  originally  been  intended  for  a  rustic 
structure  but  which  had  lost  whatever  adornment  it 
once  possessed.  Crossing  the  river  and  ascending  the 
hill  through  old  winding  paths,  they  came  back  west- 
ward again  to  a  clearing  in  which  there  were  two  stone 
cabins,  and  a  wooden  shed  that  had  evidently  been  used 
at  one  time  as  a  stable.  It  was  a  singularly  beautiful 
spot,  with  a  spring  bubbling  from  the  hill  and  running 
sinuously  with  glitter  and  song  down  the  declivity  to  the 
Kitchomony.  Some  old  gums  and  tulips  had  been  left 
to  bend  over  the  cabins,  and  the  moist  earth  that  kept 
the  grass  green  had  also  starred  it  with  wild  flowers  into 
an  inviting  tapestry,  across  which  the  shadows  played 
and  over  which  the  birds  sang. 

The  two  men  drew  their  horses  up  in  the  shade  of  a 
tulip  tree  and  sat  silent  a  moment,  as  if  drinking  in  the 
beautiful  vista  and  listening  to  the  silver  tinkle  of  the 
rivulet.  The  slope  lost  itself  in  the  deep  greens  of  the 
timber  along  the  Kitchomony,  through  the  openings  of 
which  the  river  flashed  here  and  there  as  with  the  spears 
of  a  stealthy  cavalcade.  Beyond  were  the  softened 
uplands  of  the  rise,  belted  with  the  Bussey  grove,  out 
of  which  peeped  the  corner  of  the  white  mansion  that 
seemed  to  dip  like  a  distant  white  sail  as  the  swaying 
branches  hid  or  revealed  it.  It  was  all  lying  in  a  repose 
of  its  own — an  almost  Sabbath  calm  of  beauty,  and  over 
it  all  passed,  like  the  breath  of  God,  the  soft  sigh  of  the 
summer.     No  man  of  John  Burt's  age  could  have  been 


26  THE  CONQUERING  OF  KATE 

utterly  oblivious  of  the  romantic  glamour,  now  part  of 
the  spell.  Just  enough  had  been  said  to  invest  that 
white  spot  in  the  distance  with  a  little  claim  of  human 
interest  and  mystery.  But  being  under  immediate 
obligations  to  be  what  the  Judge  called  prac-ti-cal, 
Mr.  Burt  shut  off  all  fantasy  and  came  resolutely  back 
to  business. 

"What  were  these  cabins  built  for?"  he  asked. 

"Niggers,"  said  the  Judge,  who  had  taken  off  his 
broad-brimmed  hat  and  was  leisurely  fanning  himself 
with  it  ;  "niggers.  Colonel  John  at  one  time  planned 
to  have  their  quarters  here,  there  was  so  many  of  them 
hanging  about.  That  cabin  just  on  the  other  side  of 
the  gully  is  mine.  You  see,  I  bought  a  couple  of  acres 
of  him  with  an  idea  of  putting  in  waterworks  here  and 
carrying  the  water  over  to  our  houses.  We  had  some 
big  ideas  of  improvement  then.  The  division  line 
runs  along  this  brook,  but  nobody's  bothered  with  it 
for  ten  years." 

"What's  the  matter  with  my  taking  possession  of  that 
place  and  putting  my  traps  into  it?"  asked  the  prac- 
ti-cal  Mr.  Burt.  "There  is  not  a  more  beautiful  spot 
in  the  world,  and  I'm  used  to  camping  out.  There's  an 
old  stable  there  for  my  horse,  and  I  can  snatch  one  of  the 
niggers  for  my  man-servant.  I've  some  instruments 
and  things,  and  besides,  I  shall  be  on  the  spot." 

"There's  nothing  to  prevent  it,"  replied  the  Judge, 
"if  you  care  for  that  sort  of  lonesomeness.  I'd  take  you 
over  to  my  house,  but  there's  a  reason  that  I'll  explain 
to  you  later  why  I  can't." 

So  it  came  about  that  John  Burt  squatted  there,  as  he 
called  it,  and  fitted  up  the  old  cabin  quite  luxuriously 
for  a  squatter,  and  got  hold  of  a  nigger  who  was  called 
Com,  and  settled  dowii  with  his  traps  for  practical  work 


THE  OVERSEER  27 

where  he  could  see  the  comer  of  that  white  house  in  the 
soft  perspective  when  he  got  up  in  the  dewy  mornings, 
and  where,  as  the  poet  expressed  it  so  much  better  than 
could  John  Burt : 

"  Where  perhaps  some  beauty  lies 
The  cynosure  of  neighbouring  eyes." 

And  the  Judge  hurried  away  to  Chambers  as  if  to  be 
out  of  reach  of  any  possible  collisions. 


CHAPTER    III 
The  Crushing  of  John  Burt 

Penelly  Seton  came  over  one  morning  with  her 
two  beagles,  Annie  and  Brush.  Sylvia,  who  was  sitting 
on  the  porch  trying  to  read  "Lalla  Rookh"  while  the 
porch  was  shady  and  cool,  knew  by  the  hurried  step  of 
her  friend  that  she  was  bursting  witH  news. 

Penelly's  visits  were  usually  accompanied  by  a  rustle 
of  the  real  world  outside,  and  her  minute  scraps  of  infor- 
mation were  unduly  magnified  both  in  her  own  and 
her  friend's  mind.  Her  father's  teams  were  continually 
going  and  coming,  and  his  agents  in  Harrisburg  and  even 
in  Philadelphia,  where  they  made  contracts  for  the 
very  fine  building  stone  that  he  was  getting  out,  managed 
to  keep  the  Tuscarora  Quarries  abreast  of  some  of  the 
larger  events.  Besides,  the  little  gossip  herself,  who 
had  her  own  way  in  everything,  took  occasional  journeys 
to  Chambersburg  to  do  her  shopping,  and  she  always 
came  back  brimming  with  that  kind  of  news  which  girls 
impart  to  each  other  in  secret. 

She  came  up  to  the  portico  in  quite  a  twitter,  swinging 
her  chip  hat  by  the  strings  and  then  fanning  herself  with 
it.  She  looked  so  much  like  a  French  wax  doll,  with 
her  round  pink  face  and  short  yellow  curls,  that  Sylvia 
cried  to  her  immediately : 

"Do  come  up  out  of  the  sun  or  you'll  melt,"  and 
springing  toward  her,  added,  "What  is  it?" 

"Oh,  you  mean  thing,"  said  Penelly,  dropping  into  a 

38 


THE  CRUSHING  OF  JOHN  BURT  29 

chair.  ' ' Yoti  never  said  a  word  to  me  about  it .  Where 's 
Kate?" 

"She's  out  in  the  kitchen.     Whatever  is  it  ?" 

"Kate's  going  to  have  a  dressmaker  in  for  two  weeks. 
Sue  Benton  saw  Miss  Haggerty  in  Chambersburg  and 
she's  coming  to  make  over  four  dresses." 

Sylvia  caught  her  by  the  two  arms  and  looked  her  in 
the  eyes  mysteriously.  "Now  don't  you  say  one  word, 
will  you  ?     Promise  me  on  your  honour." 

"Me?     Never — on  my  sacred  word." 

"Kate's  going  to  be  married,"  dropping  her  voice  close 
to  Penelly's  ear.  "Sh — sh !  If  you  breathe  a  word  I'll 
never  speak  to  you  again." 

Penelly  caught  Sylvia's  hand  eagerly.  "For  true? 
Is  it  Mr.  Joumingham  ?" 

Sylvia  nodded  her  head  rapidly  in  an  affirmative 
way,  and  then  looked  timidly  round  to  be  sure  that 
the  secret  was  not  overheard.  For  a  moment  the  two 
girls  stared  at  each  other  as  if  the  sudden  confidence 
were  too  sacred  for  words  ;  then  Penelly  said : 

"Let's  go  up  in  your  room  and  lock  the  door  and 
you  can  tell  me  all  about  it.     Is  he  leal  and  true  ?  " 

"As  if  Kate  would  look  at  anything  else." 

"Has  he  really  lots  of  money  ?" 

"Loads." 

"Go  on — I'll  never  open  my  mouth." 

By  this  time  the  two  heads  were  very  close  together 
and  the  arms  were  around  each  others'  waists,  and  the 
two  souls  were  murmuring  in  the  confidential  task  of 
creating  an  air  of  mystery.  But  such  concentration 
could  not  long  restrain  animal  impulse,  and  presently 
they  both  jumped  up  and  went  full  and  fluttering  up 
the  stairs  into  the  sacred  recesses  of  Sylvia's  chamber, 
where  Penelly,  once  that  the  door  was  locked,  said: 


30  THE  CONQUERING  OF  KATE 

"How  is  the  loathsome  overseer?  You  can  hire 
him  now,  can't  you  ?" 

"We  can  discharge  him — ^that's  better,"  said  Sylvia. 

"I  should  think  it  would  be  a  comfort  to  have  him 
riding  about,  in  pearl  buttons,  on  that  black  horse.  Is 
Kate  going  to  have  anything  new,  or  only  made  over  ? 
When  is  it  to  be  ?" 

"My  dear,"  replied  Sylvia,  "you  must  control  your- 
self. It's  awfully  real  this  time.  Oh,  let's  go  down  in 
the  sunshine." 

"Did  you  get  the  berries  I  sent  over  with  Flick?" 

"Yes.  I'll  tell  you  what  we'll  do.  Let's  go  down  in 
the  kitchen  and  pick  them  over.     Kate's  there." 

And  without  further  ado,  down  they  galloped  to  the 
big  kitchen  at  the  northern  end  of  the  house  and  burst 
in  upon  Kate,  and  Leesha,  who  was  blowing  into  lamp 
chimneys  and  cutting  wicks.  Kate  was  dressed  for 
walking  and  was  putting  up  a  small  basket  of 
provisions. 

"Good-morning,  Pen,"  said  Kate.  "What  brought 
you  over  so  early?" 

The  round  pink  face  flushed  a  little,  but  Penelly 
answered  promptly :  "Oh,  I  was  just  blue  and  I  wanted 
to  come  where  there's  something  going  on  and  some  one 
to  talk  to." 

"She  came  to  help  me  pick  the  berries,"  said  Sylvia. 
"Where  are  they?  I  smell  them."  And  then  the 
two  of  them  went  poking  into  the  big  pantry  with  their 
noses  up  like  the  beagles'. 

Leesha  lifted  down  from  a  shelf  a  bowl  of  the  little 
luscious  wild  berries. 

"Now  you  jes'  clar  out  dar  under  de  apple  tree.  I 
don'  hev  no  mussin'  roun'  heah  of  young  folks  dis  yar 
momin'." 


THE  CRUSHING  OF  JOHN  BURT  31 

Sylvia  took  the  bowl  between  her  hands  and, 
followed  by  Penelly,  went  out  to  the  bench  under  the 
apple  tree. 

"You  may  give  me  a  saucerful  of  them,"  said  Kate. 
"I'm  going  over  to  Unc'l  Dan'l's  with  some  knick- 
knacks." 

"Unc'l  Dan'l  is  dun  gone  fired  out,"  said  Leesha."* 

"What  do  you  mean?"  asked  Kate,  coming  to  a 
'  present  arms '  instantly. 

"Unc'l  Dan'l  dun  gone  clar  out  de  buckwheat  fiel'." 

"Do  you  mean  that  he  is  taken  from  his  cabin  ?'^ 

"Dat's  what  I  mean.  De  new  boss  tole  him  to  git. 
I  reckon  he  doan  waste  no  feelin's  on  an  old  nigger  like 
Unc'l  Dan'l." 

Kate  added  at  least  an  inch  of  beautiful  astonishment 
to  her  stature.  Her  eyes  came  as  near  flashing  as  eyes 
ever  do.  Leesha  had  her  broad  back  toward  her, 'not 
caring  to  encounter  point  blank  the  effect  of  her  words, 
and  was  blowing  heartily  into  a  lamp  chimney.'. 

"Moved  out  of  his  home?  Who  would  dare  to, com- 
mit such  an  outrage?" 

"I  guess  de  new  boss  ain'  got  no  time  fer ble'niggers 
nohow  what  take  so  long  to  die  as  Unc'l  Dan'l." 

Leesha  then  seized  the  handle  of  the  kitchen  pump 
and  made  a  great  deal  of  noise  with  it  as  a  defensive 
expedient,  but  hearing  no  explosion  behind  her,  she 
finally  turned  slowly  round  to  see  ICate,  erect  and  white, 
with  her  head  thrown  back,  staring  at  her. 

"Who  told  you  of  this  outrage  ?"  asked  the  mistress. 

"Lo'd,  Miss,  de  boys  all  tole  it — de  boss  forgot  to  tell 
'em  to  keep  mum." 

"And  they  said  Unc'l  Dan'l's  cabin  was  to  be  ptiUed 
down?" 

"Fo'  de  Lo'd,  dat's  what  dey  said." 


33  THE  CONQUERING  OF  KATE 

"It  never  shall  be  done  if  I  have  to  defend  it  with 
my  own  hands.     Have  you  any  lemons?" 

"Lo'd  o'  massy,  Miss,  I  ain't  seed  no  lemons  since 
Syl  spilt  de  ink  on  de  white  table-cloff." 

Kate  walked  to  the  little  cracked  mirror  that  Leesha 
kept  on  the  pantry  door  and  put  on  her  hat. 

"I  look  like  a  fright,  Leesha,  this  morning — don't 
I?"  she  said. 

Leesha  gave  her  one  quick  glance  of  admiration  and 
replied,  "Youze  dat  peert  dis  yar  momin'  'zif  you  was 
de  Lo'd's  own  appointed  boss  yussef." 

Kate  went  out  with  her  little  basket,  stopping  at  the 
apple  tree  a  moment  to  receive  the  berries,  and  Leesha, 
looking  after  her,  said : 

"Not  a  nigger  to  tote  de  Miss's  basket.  If  de  new 
boss  sees  her  comin'  dis  yar  momin',  he  climb  a  tree, 
suah,  like  a  'possum,  fer  to  keep  out  de  waydem  eyes, 
honey." 

The  girls  looked  after  her  as  she  crossed  the  lawn, 
but  it  is  doubtful  if  they  saw  how  picturesque  and 
dainty  she  was  in  her  old  gray  suit.  They  wore  thinking 
of  her  in  corded  silk  and  orange  blossoms.  She  went 
with  light,  determined  step  through  the  grass  of  the 
field  beyond  to  the  Kitchomony.  She  knew  every 
foot  of  the  way,  and  in  her  present  mood  gave  little 
heed  to  the  beauty  of  it.  When  she  reached  the  river 
bank  she  turned  east  into  the  wild  path,  looking  through 
the  openings  at  the  dark-brown  stream  in  a  moody  way. 
It  had  flowed  there  through  all  the  happiest  hours  of 
her  life,  from  childhood.  There  was  not  a  water-pocket, 
a  mossy  bank  or  a  slanting  bole  that  was  not  associated 
with  some  little  event  or  emotion — and  with  Unc'l 
Dan'l.  That  infirm  old  servitor,  like  a  faithful  watch- 
dog, had  accompanied  her  and  Sylvia  in  all  their  excur- 


THE  CRUSHING  OF  JOHN  BURT  33 

sions.  He  was  associated  in  her  mind  with  her  first 
pony,  and  his  shining  black  face  had  been  always  wait- 
ing for  her  on  rainy  days  at  the  door  of  the  schoolhouse 
and  the  church.  •  She  remembered  how  her  father  had 
jocosely  called  him  his  black  oracle.  Once  he  had 
saved  her  life  by  pulling  her  out  of  the  Kitchomony 
where  it  was  treacherously  deep,  and  he  had  suffered 
from  the  rheumatism  ever  since.  Nobody  but  Unc'l 
Dan'l  preserved  the  memories  of  the  Grand  Dame  so 
fresh  and  vivid.  He  always  uncovered  when  her 
name  was  mentioned,  for  it  was  to  her  that  he  owed  his 
liberty,  and  he  had  returned  the  gift  by  becoming  a 
lifelong  slave  of  affection  to  this  girl. 

In  her  special  care  of  this  superannuated  servant 
Kate  had  always  felt  that  she  was  executing  a  special 
bequest  of  her  father's.  There  were  reasons  why  she 
could  not  take  him  into  the  mansion,  where  her 
supervising  patronage  might  have  been  direct  and 
continuous,  the  chief  being  his  obdurate  and  uncom- 
promising religious  fervour.  He  preferred  his  own 
cabin,  where  he  could  wrestle  with  "de  Lo'd"  unham- 
pered by  considerations  of  quiet  propriety,  exhort  his 
coloured  companions  and  hold  prayer-meetings  with 
necessary  unction. 

Kate  crossed  the  old  bridge  and  began  slowly  to  mount 
the  wood  path  at  the  eastern  end  of  the  bluff.  It  was 
such  a  July  morning  as  the  summer,  even  in  that  favoured 
region,  only  perfects  at  long  intervals.  The  air  that 
blew  across  the  meadows  was  fragrant  with  the  sweet- 
brier  and  the  grape  blossoms,  and  the  leaves  of  the 
aspens  whispered  with  volubility.  Half  way  up  the 
hill  there  was  a  ledge  of  shale,  and  she  stopped  there 
a  moment,  placing  her  basket  on  the  ground  as  if  from 
force  of  habit.     Some  soft  white  clouds  were  sailing 


34  THE  CONQUERING  OF  KATE 

low  down  in  the  east  like  puffs  of  steam,  and  the  odorous 
air  that  went  by  fluttered  her  dress  gently  and,  I  dare 
say,  hummed  some  old  tune  to  her.  Perhaps  she  was 
thinking  of  that  third  of  July  some  years  ago  when  she 
played  there  with  her  sister,  and  both  of  them  listened 
to  the  thunder  in  the  southeast  that  rumbled  all  that 
afternoon,  without  any  intimation  to  them  of  the  crisis 
at  Gettysburg.  Mayhap,  and  more  likely,  she  was 
thinking  of  another  July,  when  she  stood  there  as  a 
woman  and  listened  to  Mr.  Journingham  telling  her  of 
his  passion,  which  had  seemed  as  far  away  to  her  then 
as  the  Battle  of  Gettjjsburg. 

Perhaps  it  was  something  in  this  recollection  that 
made  her  set  her  teeth  as  if  to  keep  a  cry  from  escaping, 
and,  seizing  her  basket,  go  on  up  to  the  crest  of  the  hill 
with  a  more  determined  step.  Once  at  the  top,  she 
looked  down  the  long  northern  incline  to  the  buckwheat 
field  and  the  lagoon  beyond.  Then  she  proceeded 
directly  to  the  old  stone  hut  which  stood  exposed  against 
the  bleakest  part  of  that  hill.  She  found  it  empty  and 
deserted.  Once  she  called  "Unc'l  Dan'l,"  but  there 
was  no  answer,  and  one  glance  at  the  interior 
convinced  her  that  he  and  his  chattels  had  been 
taken  away.  The  violence  and  the  shame  of  it 
to  her  sensibilities  made  her  give  her  eye  a  quick 
wipe.  It  was  the  impulse  of  indignation  and 
humiliated  pride. 

As  she  stood  there,  Pete,  the  most  disreputable  young 
nigger  on  the  place,  lifted  himself  out  of  a  furrow  in  the 
buckwheat  field  and  shouted  to  her: 

"Unc'l  Dan'l  dun  gone  up  by  de  Basswood  Spring. 
De  boss  hyst  him  out,  swar  to  Goad." 

She  called  Pete  over  to  her.  "  Where  is  the  boss?" 
she  asked. 


THE  CRUSHING  OF  JOHN  BURT  35 

"Drivin'  de  niggers  in  de  medders,  makin'  canawls," 
and  Pete  grinned  from  ear  to  ear. 

"Take  this  basket  and  carry  it  to  Unc'l  Dan'l  for 
me,"  she  said,  "and  tell  him  I  will  see  him  to-morrow 
— do  you  hear — and  don't  you  take  the  napkin  off,  or 
I'll  have  Pierson  tie  you  up  and  flog  you.  Go  on — I 
have  to  find  the  boss." 

As  she  retraced  her  steps  vigorously  it  occiirred  to 
her  that  if  the  boss  was  in  the  meadows  on  the  south  of 
the  bluff  she  could  determine  it  from  the  ledge  where 
she  had  stood  before.  What  was  her  astonishment 
when  she  reached  that  spot  to  find  a  stranger  surveying 
the  country  leisurely  through  a  field-glass,  looking  very 
much  like  a  tourist  as  he  stood  erect  with  one  arm  on  the 
trunk  of  a  fir-tree  and  the  other  holding  the  glass  to  his 
eyes.  He  was  partly  turned  away  from  her,  and  before 
she  had  considered  she  had  addressed  him : 

"I  beg  your  pardon,  sir,  do  you  know  if  the  person 
they  call  the  overseer  is  down  there  in  the  meadows?" 

He  turned  around,  looked  at  her  with  surprise  and 
admiration,  lifted  his  hat  with  an  easy  grace  and  said 
with  a  pleasant  smile: 

"I  am  the  person  they  call  the  overseer." 

She  was  taken  completely  aback  in  spite  of  her 
determination,  but  she  managed  to  say: 

"Are  you  Mr.  "  and  then  she  stopped,  for  she 

had  forgotten  the  name. 

"Burt — John  Burt,"  he  said,  "and  entirely  at  your 
service." 

By  this  time  she  had  recovered  her  sense  of  indig- 
nation. 

"I  merely  wish  to  say  to  you,  Mr.  Burt,"  she  con- 
tinued with  admirable  imperiousness,  "that  up  to  the 
time  of  your  intrusion  here  I  had  some  authority  over 


36  THE  CONQUERING  OF  KATE 

my  own  property  and  servants,  -and  my  wishes  were  not 
treated  with  contempt  and  violence.  You  have  turned 
an  old  and  faithful  friend  of  mine  out  of  his  quarters. 
I  wish  to  tell  you,  sir,  that  you  are  acting  as  if  I  had  no 
redress  for  such  outrages." 

John  Burt  listened  to  this  speech  with  some  bewil- 
derment, for,  whatever  its  injustice,  it  was  delivered 
with  dignity  and  authority. 

"I  presume,"  he  said,  "that  I  am  speaking  to  Miss 
Bussey." 

"Yes,  sir.     I  am  Miss  Bussey." 

"Well,  Miss  Bussey,  if  you  will  permit  me  to  say  so, 
it  is  a  very  ungracious  speech.  When  I  arrived  here  I 
immediately  called  at  your  house  to  pay  my  respects  and 
consult  with  the  family  as  to  what  were  your  views,  but 
well-meant  as  were  my  intentions,  they  were  completely 
baffled,  and  I  have  been  somewhat  in  the  dark  ever 
since.  My  position  was  made  very  embarrassing  by 
the  treatment  I  received  at  your  house." 

"The  family,  sir,  did  not  engage  your  services,  and  I 
should  think  that  if  you  were  a  man  of  the  least  sensi- 
bility you  would  see  that  they  are  offensive  to  us." 

"I  cannot  for  the  life  of  me  see  why  they  should  be 
when  they  have  been  secured  in  your  interests." 

She  saw  that  they  were  lapsing  into  an  argument, 
and,  if  given  rope  enough,  Mr.  Burt  would  endeavour  to 
prove  that  he  was  not  a  condign  ruffian ;  so  she  snapped 
it  all  off,  woman  fashion. 

"  It  was  to  convey  to  you  my  wishes  and  not  to  argue 
with  you,  sir,  that  I  sought  you.  If  I  have  any  authority 
whatever  left  to  me  I  shall  see  that  you  do  not  again 
thrust  yourself  into  my  affairs." 

With  that  she  turned  suddenly  and  strode  down  the 
hill  without  paying  the  slightest  attention  to  John  Burt's 


THE  CRUSHING  OF  JOHN  BURT  37 

desire  to  be  heard.  She  bore  herself  with  the  conscious 
air  of  one  who,  if  she  had  not  blocked  the  inevitable, 
had  at  least  declared  what  the  inevitable  was  to  expect 
if  it  interfered  with  her. 

As  for  John  Burt,  he  followed  her  with  his  eyes  until 
the  shrubbery  hid  her  from  view.  Then  he  emitted  a 
long,  low  whistle  of  mingled  applause  and  wonder,  and 
saying,  "By  the  prophet  Heckshent,  she  is  a  thor- 
oughbred," he  took  up  his  glass  and  resumed  the  task 
of  watching  the  men  in  the  meadow. 

As  Kate  came  across  the  lawn  toward  the  house, 
Leesha  ran  out  hurriedly  to  meet  her,  the  red  handker- 
chief on  her  head  flapping  about  and  her  hands  covered 
with  flour. 

"What  I  tole  you,  chile,  dis  yar  momin',  when  you 
had  two  spoons  in  your  coffee.  Dar's  a  letter  upstairs 
for  you,  honey." 

When  Aunt  Sussex  put  the  package  in  Kate's  hands 
and  she  saw  the  imprint  on  it,  "  Charlton  Club,  London," 
she  hurried  to  her  room  and  tried  to  summon  courage 
to  read  it.  She  was  not  without  bravery,  and  came  at 
it  presently  with  a  whitened  face  and  a  rather  set  mouth. 

"  Charlton  Club,  London,  June  16,  1870. 
"Miss  Kate  Bussey. 

''My  Dear  Kate:  Your  welcome  letter  has  just  reached 
me,  and  without  waiting  to  collect  my  emotions  suffi- 
ciently to  pen  you  a  long  answer,  I  make  immediate 
acknowledgment,  deferring  until  later  a  more  ample 
expression  of  my  feelings.  It  is  indeed  such  a  surprise 
that  I  scarcely  know  how  to  reply.  If,  as  your  letter 
indicates,  you  have  changed  your  mind  absolutely,  I 
think  you  might  have  given  me  some  of  the  reasons. 
But  I  need  not  tell  you  that,  whatever  your  reasons,  I 


38  THE  CONQUERING  OF  KATE 

am  selfish  enough  to  be  overjoyed  at  the  result.  That 
it  is  not  a  passing  caprice,  but  the  sober  second  thought 
of  a  sincere  and  noble  woman,  is  my  conclusion,  and, 
in  obedience  to  what  I  am  pleased  to  regard  as  its 
summons,  I  shall  return  to  America  the  moment  I 
have  settled  up  some  of  my  affairs  here  which  demand 
my  immediate  attention,  and  which  I  need  not  tell  you 
will  be  expedited  to  the  utmost  of  my  powers.  I  trust 
that  nothing  has  happened  to  disturb  the  serene  current 
of  your  lives  at  the  Catalpas,  and  that  nothing  will 
interpose  to  prevent  my  speedy  arrival  to  claim  the 
woman  who  has  at  last  awarded  my  devotion  and 
sincerity  and  at  whose  feet  I  am  ready  to  place  my 
fortune  and  my  name. 

"  With  my  kindest  regards  to  your  sister  and  aunt  and 
a  renewal  of  all  the  tender  hopes  which  for  awhile  seemed 
to  perish,  I  remain  * 

"  Your  lover  and  servant, 

'J  August   Journingham.  " 

It  is  not  rernarkable  that,  bringing  her  wounded  pride 
and  authority  so  directly  from  her  experience  on  the 
bluff  to  the  reading  of  this  letter,  her  first  impulse 
was  one  of  triumph,  for  she  said  aloud,  "That  settles 
Mr.  John  Burt,  I  fancy. "  And  then,  with  that  delightful 
inconsistency  that  makes  proclamation  of  sex,  she 
dropped  her  head  between  her  hands  and,  as  Penelly 
Seton  would  have  described  it,  "burst  into  a  flood  of 
passionate  tears." 


CHAPTER   IV 
Backward 

Judge  Heckshent  in  his  talk  with  John  Burt  had 
hinted  at  some  reasons  why  his  endeavour  to  carry  out 
Colonel  John's  wishes  had  not  been  entirely  successful. 
It  is  necessary  to  tell  the  reader,  seeing  that  he  did 
not,  what  those  reasons  were,  and  to  do  it  we  must 
travel  backward  a  little. 

The  original  Dame  Bussey  must  have  been  not  only  a 
masterful  as  well  as  a  magnificent  woman,  but  withal  a 
determined,  unswerving  partizan.  Her  Huguenot  blood, 
despite  all  the  interests  and  associations  of  her  Virginia 
home  in  New  Kent,  was  never  quite  placid  in  the  condi- 
tions which  slavery  imposed.  She  was  an  active  and 
influential  Whig,  and  among  the  many  who  followed 
the  political  career  of  Henry  Clay  with  ardent  hopes 
and  unmeasured  affection,  she  was  also  among  the  few 
who  did  not  abate  their  convictions  nor  temper  their 
disappointment  when  the  country  relegated  him — 
ungratefully,  some  of  us  thought — to  private  life. 

She  was  present  at  the  Harrisburg  Convention  of  '39, 
at  the  invitation  of  her  brother-in-law,  Major  Gold- 
borough.  It  was  said  in  Kent  that  she  had  gone  as  a 
delegate-at-large.  I  think  she  had  two  strings  to  her 
bow,  as  we  used  to  say.  Southwestern  Pennsylvania  at 
that  time  was  regarded  as  the  promised  land,  and 
although  her  main  purpose  was  no  doubt  to  throw  all 
her  influence   in   behalf  of  the  nomination   of   "Our 

39 


40  THE  CONQUERING  OF  KATE 

Harry, "  as  he  was  fondly  called,  she  at  the  same  time 
intended  to  use  her  eyes  in  determining  for  herself 
if  all  that  she  had  heard  of  the  beauty  and  fertility  of 
Pennsylvania  was  true. 

When  the  convention  nominated  William  Henry 
Harrison  for  President,  to  the  surprise  of  the  country, 
the  handsome  widow  was,  of  all  the  many  who  had 
hoped  and  predicted  and  wagered,  the  most  indignantly 
disappointed.  When  that  convention  added  to  the 
ticket  the  name  of  John  Tyler  of  Virginia,  the  man  of  all 
others  in  active  political  life  for  whom  she  had  con- 
ceived a  most  implacable  dislike,  her  discomfiture, 
and  perhaps  I  ought  to  say  her  resentment,  were 
complete. 

In  a  bundle  of  old  letters  written  about  that  time  and 
in  possession  of  the  Goldborough  family — letters  written 
in  a  bold,  flowing  hand,  but  much  faded  and  creased,  and 
each  having  a  rent  in  it  where  the  sealing  wax  had  torn 
the  script  in  the  unfolding — I  find  her  bewailing  the  fate 
of  the  country  and  speaking  her  mind  with  regard  to 
John  Tyler  with  a  hearty  antipathy  that  is  curiously 
like  the  bold,  frank  handwriting. 

"Who  is  this  hero  of  Tippecanoe,  whose  chief  merit 
appeareth  in  flagons  of  cider?"  she  writes.  "Before 
God,  I  think  our  people  are  bewitched,  or  worse, 
besotted,  with  much  the  same  ignoble  potage,  that 
they  turn  thus  from  their  statesman  and  saviour  and 
go  madly  forth  after  Baal  and  his  prophets. " 

Again  she  says: 

"You  may  believe  me  when  I  tell  you  I  know  John 
Tyler  of  James.  If  the  evil  influences  which  are  beguil- 
ing our  people  should  continue,  and  by  any  stroke  of 
destiny  he  should  fall  into  the  executive  chair,  he  will 
sell  his  party  and  his  patriotism  for  a  mess  of  pottage 


BACKWARD  41 

and  widen  the  breach  that  is  already  ooening  between 
the  sections.     God  help  our  country. " 

Very  unreal  and  pallid  these  old  flames  of  partizan- 
ship  appear  now,  as  we  try  in  vain  to  revive  the  memories 
of  the  events  that  ignited  them.  Finally  there  is  a 
postscript  to  one  of  the  old  letters  which  reads  thus: 

"As  for  me,  I  am  done  with  politics,  and  in  some 
measure  with  Virginia.  If  I  can  serve  God,  and  indi- 
rectly the  nation,  in  a  new  country  with  a  new  home, 
in  doing  my  duty  to  those  who  are  to  come  after  me, 
I  shall  be  content.  " 

She  was  as  good  as  her  word.  She  shook  the  dust  of 
Virginia  and  of  politics  from  her  skirts  and  came  into 
Franklin,  scrip  and  scrippage,  to  put  in  the  foundations 
of  Catalpa  Grange,  set  up  her  family  altar,  and  impress 
her  character  so  deeply  on  all  the  vicinage  that  you  can 
to  this  day  gather  pleasant  and  loyal  memories  of  lier — 
her  sturdy  virtues  and  her  ample  patrimony — anywhere 
along  the  foot  of  the  Great  Range. 

Among  those  who  came  with  her  from  Harrisburg  to 
Chambersburg  was  a  young  lawyer,  a  prot^gd  of  hers 
who,  from  a  poor  student,  had  grown  into  her  favour, 
reaped  the  benefit  of  her  service,  and  was  already  her 
factotum  and  secretary.  He  served  her  with  patient 
integrity,  and  she  began  to  push  him  into  prominence 
among  her  friends.  It  was  during  this  early  service 
that  young  Heckshent  committed  the  mistake  of  his 
life,  the  consequences  of  which  were  to  knit  themselves 
into  the  after  events  which  make  this  simple  story.  In 
a  moment  of  youthful  hallucination  he  became  bewitched 
by  a  black-eyed  girl  from  the  Tennessee  Mountains  and, 
before  his  better  judgment  could  come  to  his  rescue,  had 
married  her.  It  was  all  done  quickly  and  secretly,  but 
once  done  there  was  something  of  an  acknowledgment 


42  THE  CONQUERING  OF  KATE 

of  his  folly  in  immediately  resigning  from  the 
service  of  his  mistress.  He  walked  in  upon  her 
one  morning,  crestfallen  to  inform  her  of  what  he 
had  done.  She  studied  him  placidly  and  somewhat 
pityingly. 

"So  you  have  made  up  your  mind  to  desert  me,"  she 
said.     "Do  I  deserve  it?" 

"  No,  you  do  not ;  but  I  might  as  well  forestall  your 
opinion  of  me." 

"  Have  you  robbed  me  or  are  you  tired  of  me  ?" 

"No,  I  think  I  am  incapable  of  robbing  you,  but  I 
have  married  Molly  Hornbolt." 

She  stared  at  him  with  astonishment.  "  Molly  Horn- 
bolt,"  she  said  incredulously.  "Have  you  lost  your 
wits?" 

"She  is  my  wife,"  he  replied.  "I  have  no  intention 
of  dodging  the  duty  it  implies." 

Then  she  gave  way  to  her  irritation  and  reproaches. 

"Young  man,"  she  said,  "you  had  your  race  marked 
out  and  the  course  cleared  for  you.  Will  you  tell  me 
why  you  hanged  a  millstone  round  your  neck — and 
such  a  millstone?" 

"Madam,"  he  rejoined  with  a  meek  doggedness,  "I 
may  not  always  know  what  is  to  my  interest,  but  I 
have  a  very  clear  perception  of  what  is  my  duty.  She 
is  my  wife." 

"Yes,  surely.  But  you  cannot  expect  me  to  stand 
to  it.  Merciful  heavens,  man,  and  I  had  opened  the 
way  for  you  among  my  own  people  !  There  was  nothing 
you  might  not  have  had  in  this  new  country.  Well, 
well,  we  all  make  mistakes.  Mine  was  perhaps  as  great 
as  yours.  Molly  Hornbolt !  Heaven  save  us !  What 
am  I  to  do  with  Molly  Hornbolt?" 

"Nothing,  madam.     I  came  to  thank  you  for  what 


BACKWARD  43 

you  have  done.  I  do  not  expect  you  to  do  anything 
more.     I  have  my  own  fight  to  make." 

"And  a  nice  fight  you  will  make  of  it,  judging  from 
your  start." 

He  sat  in  front  of  her  not  unlike  a  reprimanded 
servant.  His  gaunt  young  face  wore  that  pathos  of 
weakness  that  both  maddens  and  softens  the  observer. 
She  remembered  his  patient  fidelity  and  loyalty.  She 
pitied  and  almost  despised  him  at  the  same  time. 

"Go,"  she  said  imperiously,  "and  bring  your  wife 
here,  that  I  may  look  at  her." 

He  made  an  involuntary  gesture  of  protest,  for  the 
command  seemed  to  imply  some  kind  of  vengeance,  but 
she  repeated  it,  and  even  held  the  door  open  for  him  and 
pointed  him  out. 

With  respect  to  that  meeting  of  the  bride  in  red 
ribbons  with  the  Lady  of  the  Manor,  I  can  only  piece 
out  the  hearsay  scraps  of  tradition  with  a  reasonable 
imagination.  Molly  was  not  at  all  overawed  by  the 
Dame.  She  had  herself  just  achieved  what  was  to  a 
girl  of  her  capacity  and  breeding  a  supreme  personal 
triumph.  She  had  no  veneration  in  her  make-up,  and 
she  was  inclined  to  regard  the  Dame  as  rather  overdone 
in  her  majestic  airs  and  too  self-confident  in  her  patron- 
age. The  marriage  had  been  a  concession  on  Molly's 
part.  She  could  have  done  better.  She  only  had  to 
pick  and  choose.  "  Good  Lord,"  she  said  to  her  husband 
afterward,  "the  old  hen  looked  as  if  you  ought  to  be 
sick  of  your  bargain  already." 

Dame  Bussey  saw  only  the  possible  future  of  the 
young  lawyer.  Her  pity  may  have  been  a  prophetic 
intuition.  It  very  often  is  with  such  women.  When 
she  was  alone  with  him,  she  said: 

"Young  man,  accidents  will  happen  to  all  of  us  in 


44.  THE  CONQUERING  OF  KATE 

this  life.  I  suppose  the  best  we  can  do  is  to  stand  up 
to  them  with  stout  hearts  when  they  are  not  fatal.  I 
will  pray  that  your  life  will  be  long  enough  to  retrieve 
your  error.  You  go  and  pray  that  mine  will  be  long 
enough  to  help  you." 

And  thus  it  was  that  the  noble  lady  set  herself  to  the 
task  of  lightening  her  prot6g6's  burden  by  bearing  a 
little  of  it  herself,  as  she  kept  her  teeth  clenched  and 
assisted  him  with  many  silent  favours  to  stand  manfully 
to  the  bargain  he  had  made.  She  never  ceased  to  use 
her  influence  to  advance  his  interests  and  to  make  known 
in  various  devious  ways  what  she  believed  to  be  his 
sterling  qualities ,^and  so  long  as  the  Dame  lived,  Mrs. 
Heckshent,  despite  every  natural  disadvantage  that 
developed  most  disagreeably  with  time,  was  treated 
by  the  families  in  Franklin  with  guarded  respect  and 
reticent  recognition.  When  the  Grange  was  completed 
and  there  was  a  jolly  old-fashioned  house-warming  Avith 
many  old-school  magnates  there,  who  still  swore  by 
"Our  Harry"  and  who  buried  the  sectional  hatchets 
in  the  Dame's  Madeira,  Mrs.  Heckshent  was  there  with 
the  baby,  and  the  hostess  insisted  that  a  sacrament 
would  add  grace  to  hospitality,  and  had  old  Father 
Capers  there  to  do  the  christening  and  pass  the  Heck- 
shent heir  around  in  long  lace  clothes  to  be  chucked 
under  the  chin  by  the  magnates  and  have  his  pink  health 
drunk.  She  had  him  named  Folingsby,  after  some 
Huguenot  ancestor  of  hers.  Unc'l  Dan'l  has  told  me 
that  Mrs.  Heckshent,  who  sat  around  somewhat  sullenly 
while  the  "big  bugs"  made  merry,  resented  the  name, 
for  she  had  "sot"  her  mind  on  calling  the  boy  "  Monk, " 
after  some  distinguished  moonshiner  in  her  own  family. 
But  the  Judge  put  it  down  in  his  family  Bible  in  red 
ink  triumphantly,  not  so  much  as  a  record,  but  as  if  it 


BACKWARD  45 

promised  to  be  a  blessed  erasure  of  much  that  had  been 
growing  ominous.  I  have  seen  the  two  memoranda  in 
the  old  Bible,  one  of  a  marriage  and  the  other  of  a  birth, 
both  written  by  the  Judge's  hand,  and  looking  at  them 
as  I  did  with  the  subsequent  history  of  the  family  in  my 
mind,  you  can  imagine  what  a  commiserating  sense 
of  the  futility  of  human  hopes  came  over  me.  The 
baby  Folingsby  did  indeed  open  all  the  springs  of  affec- 
tion that  had  run  dry  in  the  Judge's  heart,  and  it  was 
very  beautiful  to  see  how  the  Dame  nursed  and  watched 
and  by  every  means  in  her  power  added  to  those  new 
rivulets  of  affection.  She  believed  that  this  little 
arrival  could  be  made  to  close  up  the  dire  gap  in  the 
Heckshent  family.  His  coming  she  herself  had  made 
into  a  festive  link  between  the  old  regime  and  the  new. 
Major  Goldborough  has  told  me  of  that  christening, 
and  he  says  that  when  those  stalwarts  stood  around  the 
Dame's  mahogany  and  drank  to  "Our  Harry"  a 
pink  spot  came  into  her  cheek  where  "  Our  Harry  of  the 
West"  had  once  kissed  her,  and  that  she  lifted  her  glass 
and  tossed  off  her  wine  with  the  best  of  them.  Those 
were  lusty  times  at  the  Catalpas.  What  with  his  young 
wife,  his  hounds,  his  harriers  and  his  horses,  Colonel 
John  must  have  had  a  fine  time  of  it.  There  were  deer 
then  on  the  confines  of  the  estate,  so  that  the  slopes  and 
ledges  which  have  since  become  the  Tuscarora  Quarries 
must  have  echoed  at  times  like  the  olden  greenwoods 
of  England  to  the  horn  and  halloo.  Nor  was  the  pas- 
toral side  of  it  a  whit  less  delightful.  The  fecund  acres 
teemed  and  the  cattle  thrived  and  the  granaries  were 
full.  Nature  welcomed  the  family  with  open  arms, 
and  Colonel  John's  daughters  may  be  said  to  have  come 
into  a  world  where  everything  glittered  with  promise 
and  exulted  in  beauty.     Little   Kate   herself   was   an 


46  THE  CONQUERING  OF  KATE 

event  of  promise.  The  very  name  implied  the  succession. 
John  Randolph  of  Roanoke  had  said  in  his  old  age  "  there 
never  can  be  but  one  Kate  Bussey,"  and  Colonel  John 
had  reminded  his  mother  of  it  when  his  daughter  was 
born.  Whereupon,  remembering  only  that  John 
Randolph  had  quarreled  with  Henry  Clay  and,  as  she 
phrased  it,  had  tried  to  take  his  life,  the  sturdy  dame 
instantly  replied:  "John  Randolph  always  was  a  liar, 
and  now  I  have  the  opportunity  of  proving  it.  This 
chit  shall  be  the  second  Kate." 

Then,  I  dare  .say,  they  set  to  work  most  assiduously 
with  love  and  indulgence  to  utterly  spoil  the  chit.  This 
much  is  certain,  no  royal  scion  ever  came  up  through 
babyhood  to  domestic  regnancy  surrounded  by  more 
exacting  obligations  to  preserve  the  succession.  To 
Miss  Kate  the  Catalpas  was  her  principality,  and  every- 
body thought  it  a  duty  to  wear  some  kind  of  prospective 
obedience.  Can  you  wonder  that  this  beautiful  girl 
with  a  Madonna  face  and  a  gentle  dignity  of  demeanour 
had  all  that  was  most  precious  in  her  young  life  inextri- 
cably interwoven  with  the  scenes  and  associations  of  that 
small  part  of  the  wide  world  ?  She  grew  to  be  one  of  its 
flowering  products.  There  had  never  been  any  break 
in  the  assured  serenity  of  the  domain.  It  would  be  very 
beautiful  to  tell  the  story  entirely  from  the  point  of  view 
of  that  girl's  young  hopes  and  dreams,  but  that  cannot 
be.  Kate's  mother  died  when  her  eldest  daughter  was 
eleven  years  old,  and  her  youngest  only  nine.  That 
event,  however  poignant  to  the  children,  could  not  have 
worn  the  import  of  the  grandmother's  death  two  months 
later.  One  loss  was  a  silent  and  inscrutable  deprivation 
of  love.  The  other  was  made  a  memorable  event  by 
the  fact  that  the  entire  neighbourhood  seemed  to  stand 
stricken  on  account  of  it.     I  suspect  that  the  Civil  War, 


BACKWARD  47 

then  at  its  height,  hastened  the  Dame's  end.  She 
regarded  it,  as  did  many  others,  as  the  extinction  in 
blood  and  hatred  of  old  traditions  and  glories.  So 
impatient  was  she  to  get  the  news  of  every  battle,  and 
so  isolated  was  she  at  the  Grange,  that  she  went  to 
Chambersburg  to  be  in  touch  with  the  crisis.  She 
probably  allowed  her  impatience  to  overcome  her 
discretion  and  neglected  many  of  her  usual  precautions. 
At  all  events,  she  contracted  a  severe  cold  which 
developed  into  pleurisy.  They  brought  her  home, 
and  she  died  in  the  big  chamber  in  the  east  wing, 
retaining  all  her  faculties  until  she  fell  asleep  with  her 
hand  resting,  as  if  with  a  last  conveyance,  on  the  head  of 
little  Kate.  Then  it  was  that  the  muffled  bell  of  the 
little  church  at  Bourgeonville  sounded  the  close  of  a 
happy  era  at  the  Grange.  Events  after  that  appeared 
to  lose  their  conserving  tendency  and  to  be  without 
a  compelling  centre.  Kate  and  Sylvia  were  sent  South 
to  their  Aunt  Toland's,  to  school.  When  Kate  returned  a 
young  lady  Nature  alone  had  waited  for  her  in  unchang- 
ing mood.  Events  had  been  moving.  The  pleasaunces, 
green  and  flower  strewn,  remained  as  she  had  always 
known  them,  and  the  Kitchomony  dimpled  through  its 
banks  and  coverts  with  an  old  welcome. 

It  might  be  interesting  and  even  psychologic  to  trace, 
if  possible,  the  first  awakening  of  our  innocent  optimist 
to  the  fact  that  there  were  some  things  in  the  bounteous 
plan  of  beauty  that  ought  not  to  be.  Perhaps  young 
Folingsby  was  the  first  intimation  of  it.  But  Folingsby 
was  as  incapable  of  understanding  it  as  the  girl  herself. 
Something  had  intervened.  He  was  kept  at  a  new  dis- 
tance by  invisible  arms.  There  are  some  years  here 
in  which  the  girls  stood  upon  the  edge  of  womanhood 
in  a  dream  life,  but,  as  I  have  said,  events  do  not  sleep. 


48  THE  CONQUERING  OF  KATE 

In  the  fall  of  '66,  Colonel  John,  perhaps  a  little  ennuied 
with  retirement,  went  to  Washington  and  plunged 
recklessly  into  politics  at  a  time  when  the  reconstruction 
schemes  were  already  promising  to  make  the  air  blue. 
With  very  little  knowledge  of  the  conservative  temper 
of  his  district,  and  with  perhaps  not  the  best  record  to 
make  an  appeal  to  it,  he  stood  for  a  seat  in  the  Lower 
House,  as  they  phrased  it  in  Virginia.  Full  of  ardent 
hopes  and  beguiled  by  siren  politicians,  he  borrowed 
twenty  thousand  dollars  of  Judge  Heckshent  and  set  out 
to  stump  Franklin.  It  was  all  done  against  the  kindly 
protest  of  his  old  adviser,  whose  weak  will  always  gave 
way  to  the  Colonel's  overbearing  and  sanguine  disposi- 
tion. The  overwhelming  defeat  that  the  Colonel  suffered 
was  especially  cruel,  inasmuch  as  he  suspected  when  it 
was  all  over  that  he  had  been  made  the  catspaw  of 
unscrupulous  men.  The  strain,  the  excitement  and 
the  disappointment  of  the  campaign  were  too  much  for 
him,  for  he  at  no  time  had  the  discretion  of  his  mother. 
When  the  Dame  had  died,  Leesha  nailed  up  three 
horseshoes  over  the  kitchen  door.  "Never,"  she  said, 
"one  death  in  a  Bussey  family — always  three.  Lo'd 
bress  your  heart,  honey,  deh  might  be  six  if  yo'  ole 
Mammy  hadn'  break  de  charm."  When  the  Colonel 
was  brought  home  to  die  with  the  pleurisy  in  the  big 
chamber  in  the  east  wing,  and  the  sad  event  was  whis- 
pered through  the  house,  Leesha  pointed  to  the  three 
horseshoes  and  said:  "Dat's  de  end  of  'em,  suah." 

This  event  hushed  all  the  resonance  and  promise  of 
the  Grange.  The  lusty  and  domineering  voice  of  the 
Colonel  no  longer  awoke  any  cheerful  echoes.  The 
women  of  the  household  slipped  about  noiselessly, 
somewhat  bewildered  by  the  state  of  affairs.  When 
the  estate  came  to  be  settled  up  it  was  found  to  be  in 


BACKWARD  49 

pretty  bad  shape,  and  the  Judge  himself  saw  no  clear 
way  out  of  the  dilemma  except  by  the  sale  of  the  prop- 
erty or  the  marriage  of  Kate.  It  was  in  this  condition 
of  affairs  that  Aunt  Sussex  was  sent  for;  an  overseer 
was  appointed  by  the  Court ;  and  Kate  wrote  her  letter 
to  Mr.  Journingham.  The  arrival  of  Aunt  Sussex, 
instead  of  bringing  any  relief,  only  served  to  make  the 
situation  more  acute.  She  would  not  tolerate  Mrs. 
Heckshent,  and  barely  treated  the  Judge  with  the  cour- 
tesy his  position  demanded.  She  resented  the  relation- 
ship of  the  families,  which  had  become  that  of  creditor 
and  debtor.  In  some  obscure  way  of  her  own  she 
regarded  the  Judge  as  a  presuming  misfortune.  He  did 
not  understand  that  the  Busseys  had  always  claimed 
the  right  to  be  in  debt  without  dishonour.  Her  presence 
on  the  scene  served  only  to  aggravate  the  tongue  and 
the  temper  of  Mrs.  Heckshent,  who  took  every  occasion 
to  jibe  her  son  with  taunts  of  his  imbecility  and  to  poison 
his  mind  with  hints  that  his  father  was  playing  into  the 
hands  of  the  Busseys  without  a  thought  of  his  wife 
or  son. 

What  Folingsby  would  have  been  had  the  Dame  lived 
ten  years  longer,  who  can  tell.  He  grew  apace  into 
a  black-eyed,  nervous,  sharp-faced  lad,  doing  pretty 
much  as  he  pleased,  choosing  his  companions  at  the 
Quarries  and  running  about  the  county  in  a  generally 
profligate  way.  But  the  Dame  having  died,  there  was 
no  one  capable  of  interfering  with  the  free  course  of  the 
inevitable  on  its  way  to  the  immovable.  Folingsby 
inherited  the  nature  and  character  of  his  mother.  He 
was  called  in  the  village  "a  bad  egg,"  but  that  opinion 
was  generally  expressed  when  his  father  was  not  within 
hearing.  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Heckshent,  thrown  together  by 
some  tropic  impulse,  nevertheless  grew  apart  in  spite 


50  THE  CONQUERING  OF  KATE 

of  all  the  compromises  and  adjustments  of  matrimony. 
So  literally  true  was  this,  and  so  obvious,  that  it  would 
really  seem  that  Nature  even  among  human  beings 
insists  upon  her  law  of  species  and  punishes  its  violation 
with  hybrids.  The  Judge,  thrown  into  the  society  of 
the  best  men  and  women  that  Franklin  produced, 
everywhere  regarded  with  respect  and  honoured  for 
his  homely  but  sterling  character,  was  in  honour  tied  to 
a  woman  whose  character,  whose  very  nature,  had  to  be 
kept  in  social  seclusion  and  indulgently  guarded — a 
process  which  she  resented  and  perverted.  All  that  was 
ignoble  in  her  inheritances  curiously  enough  appears  to 
have  been  brought  into  activity  as  she  saw  her  husband 
trying  to  cover  with  systematic  kindness  the  increasing 
gap  between  them.  The  very  nobility  of  reticence  and 
protection  with  which  he  stood  to  his  ill-advised  choice 
to  the  end  of  his  life  with  closed  lips  was  in  itself  to  her 
an  aggravating  superiority.  Every  safeguard  and 
incentive  that  the  father's  idolatry  and  indulgence  had 
provided  for  the  boy  was  unavailing  against  the  ignoble 
predisposition  furnished  by  alien  forebears.  Folingsby 
came  in  devious  ways  to  the  edge  of  manhood  with  a 
belief  carefully  nurtured  by  his  mother  that  Miss  Kate 
Bussey  was  somehow  his  perquisite.  The  estate  was 
sure  to  belong  to  the  Heckshents  and  the  girl  went  with 
it.  "It  was  as  plain  as  pot-cheese,"  she  said,  "that 
Miss  Kate  Bussey  could  not  remain  mistress  of  the 
Grange  unless  she  married  Fol."  Such  had  been  the 
intention  of  the  grandmother,  and  it  was  Mrs. 
Heckshent's  purpose  to  see  that  the  grand- 
mother's intention  was  carried  out.  This  had 
been  poured  into  Folingsby 's  ears  on  all  sly 
occasions,  sometimes  coupled  with  the  Tennessee 
taunt    that    "if     he    hadn't    been    a   skinned    rabbit 


BACKWARD  51 

like  his  old  man  he'd  been  makin'  up  to  the  girl  long 
ago  and  been  'pinted  overseer. " 

As  soon  as  Aunt  Sussex  became  aware  of  Mrs.  Heck- 
shent's  purpose,  and  had  become  sufficiently  disgusted 
by  the  many  excuses  Folingsby  made  to  get  over  to  the 
Grange  and  pose  himself  as  a  young  beau,  she  took  her 
course.  She  whisked  the  girls  off  to  Baltimore,  where 
she  said  they  could  be  among  their  own  kind.  They 
spent  the  festive  months  between  that  city  and  Wash- 
ington, and  I  can  well  imagine  that  the  young  beauty, 
touched  with  an  air  of  romance  as  the  future  mistress 
of  the  Catalpas,  and  supervised  by  so  shrewd  an  aimt, 
soon  attracted  many  admirers.  Among  the  many  who 
felt  her  spell  was  an  Englishman  on  a  visit  to  America 
and  a  guest  at  the  house  of  one  of  the  members  of  the 
Embassy.  I  gather  from  all  the  accounts  that  Mr. 
Joumingham  came  well  accredited  and  preserved  the 
air  of  a  well-to-do  Briton.  At  all  events,  the  two  aimts 
must  have  regarded  him  as  an  available  prize,  for  when 
Aunt  Sussex  went  back  to  the  Grange  the  Tolands  went 
with  her  and  took  Mr.  Joumingham  as  a  guest.  I  find 
that  it  was  in  the  spring,  and  they  remained  there  until 
late  July,  so  that  Mr.  Joumingham  all  through  the 
bewitching  season  must  have  added  to  the  privileges  of 
a  guest  the  softer  rights  of  a  lover.  But  I  cannot  find 
that  Kate  at  any  time  gave  the  slightest  indication  that 
she  thought  enough  of  Mr,  Joumingham  to  marry  him. 
Indeed,  what  records  of  that  summer  remain  lead  me  to 
suspect  that  she  stood  out  rather  stubbornly,  but  with  a 
girl's  frolicsome  disobedience,  against  all  the  schemes 
of  the  two  aunts ;  and  having  a  volatile  coadjutor  in  her 
sister  Sylvia,  I  am  led  to  believe  that  she  treated  Mr. 
Joumingham  as  a  convenient  and  respected  guest, 
availing  herself  of  his  company  and  his  personal  prestige 


52  THE  CONQUERING  OF  KATE 

without  committing  herself  to  his  sentiment  or  making 
up  her  mind  that  she  could  marry  him,  and  when  finally 
he  went  away  in  July  and  it  was  understood  that  Kate 
had  declined  his  proposal,  the  aunts  did  not  speak  to  her 
for  a  week,  and  when  Mrs.  Toland  went  home  in  high 
dudgeon  she  even  executed  the  superfluous  symbolism 
of  shaking  the  dust  of  the  Grange  from  her  skirts  as  she 
stepped  into  her  carriage.  Then  came  the  dreamy  fall 
when  the  sisters  wandered  together  pensively  through 
the  golden  trees,  probably  not  at  all  lonesome.  There 
must  have  been  confidences  and  sympathies  altogether 
too  fine  to  be  carried  over  into  any  such  bald  record  as 
this.  I  suspect  that  the  younger  sister  comforted  the 
elder  with  her  generous  naivete  and  shot  her  conclusions 
bluntly,  as  was  her  wont.  I  can  imagine  her  saying 
when  they  were  out  of  hearing:  "If  you  are  going  to 
wear  a  crushed  air  of  being  punished,  I  am  not.  I  think 
you  did  perfectly  right,  and  I  am  proud  of  you.  Aunt 
Sussex  is  a  dear  old  relic,  and  when  it  comes  to  laying 
down  my  life  for  her  I  suppose  I  can  squeeze  myself  to 
the  proper  self-sacrifice.  But  when  she  sets  out  to 
instruct  us  that  there  isn't  anything  in  this  glorious  world 
for  you  and  me,  dear,  unless  we  marry  it,  I  feel  like  a 
mule — there — and  I  hope  you  do." 

I  do  not  think  that  either  of  the  sisters  during  those 
pleasant  months  ever  for  one  moment  regarded  Folingsby 
as  a  possible  suitor,  and  yet  it  must  have  dawned  upon 
them  sooner  or  later  that  his  visits  began  to  assume 
serious  airs.  They  were  inclined  to  treat  him  as  a  boyish 
acquaintance  of  former  times,  and  he  very  soon  began 
to  resent  it  with  rather  absurd  pretentions  of  manhood. 
The  distance  between  the  rise  and  the  Heckshent  house 
was  probably  not  much  more  than  a  thousand  feet. 
Folingsby  had  often  stretched  his  kite  strings  across  it 


BACKWARD  53 

and  dropped  boyish  messages  on  the  terrace.  But  now 
it  had  widened,  and  some  kind  of  impalpable  antag- 
onisms lurked  between.  Sometime  after  Kate  had 
received  her  letter  from  Mr.  Journingham,  young 
Folingsby  rode  up  to  the  entrance  way  of  his  father's 
garden  one  morning  on  a  spirited  horse  and  sat  there 
in  front  of  the  gate  looking  dreamingly  across  to  the 
Bussey  woods  through  which  the  white  house  on  the  rise 
gleamed  in  the  morning  sun.  His  mother,  in  a  flaring 
sunbonnet  and  ample  check  apron,  was  watering  her 
sweet  peas  in  the  garden,  and  she  looked  at  him  with 
furtive  admiration.  Folingsby  drew  his  horse's  head 
up  to  the  paling  and  called  to  his  mother  with  un- 
decorous  familiarity  across  the  fence.  "  The  new  man's 
here.     Maybe  you  seen  him,"  he  said. 

"Yes,"  she  replied  carelessly;  "I  seen  him  galloping 
past — looked  'sif  he  owned  the  place  already,  but  he 
didn't  hev  no  eyes  for  me. " 

"Old  man  had  him  'pinted  by  the  Courts,"  said  her 
son. 

"Whatfer?"  asked  the  mother,  making  a  dash  at  the 
sweet  peas  with  her  sprinkler.  "Seems  id  me  you're 
extra  greased  up  this  momin'.     What  be  you  up  to  ? " 

"Goin'  to  see  a  lady,  old  woman.  Heave  me  a  posy 
for  me  coat." 

" Posies  won't  help  you  much, "  she  said.  "What  you 
want  is  sand  in  your  crop,  then  you'd  be  the  overseer 
by  rights." 

"Oh,  I  ain't  such  poor  trash  as  you  take  me.  Wait 
till  I  get  a  show. " 

His  mother  looked  out  of  the  depths  of  her  bonnet 
with  a  cloudy  contempt. 

"She'll  twist  you  round  her  finger  like  she  does  yer 
old  man,"  she  said.     "It'll  be  honeyfugling  and  soft- 


54  THE  CONQUERING  OF  KATE 

sawderin'  and  law  courts  and  bo  win'  and  scrapin'  till 
what's  coming  to  ye  is  come  to  better  hands.  Maybe 
you  ain't  such  poor  trash,  but  leastways  we're  all  treated 
as  if  we  was.     Be  you  goin'  up  to  talk  turkey?" 

"I  just  be.  Don't  you  get  bilious,  but  leave  it  to  me. 
I'm  going  to  tackle  her  plum  straight.  Don't  break 
loose  till  I  get  through. " 

He  caught  a  bunch  of  the  flowers  that  she  tossed  to 
him,  fixed  it  in  his  buttonhole,  let  his  horse  cavort  for  a 
moment,  and  then,  striking  him  on  the  flank  with  the 
thin  rattan  cane  that  he  carried,  he  started  off  up  the 
road,  turning  once  in  the  saddle  to  shout  back  to  her: 
"Keep  your  dander  down.  I  ain't  such  a  gosling  with 
women." 

And  with  that  he  presently  turned  in  at  the  Bussey 
woods  and  rode  slowly  up  the  rise.  Thus  it  was  that 
on  that  beautiful  morning  the  boy  sweetheart  of  the  old 
Grange  came  jauntily  up  to  the  Bussey  veranda  bring- 
ing with  him  unwittingly  the  unmeasurable  antagonisms 
of  character  which  had  been  growing  while  all  else  had 
remained  abeyant  in  the  domain  of  beauty.  Kate 
looked  surprisingly  beautiful  as  she  sat  there  in  her  plain 
white  dress  in  pensive  attitude,  and  the  moment  Folings- 
by  opened  his  mouth  with  what  was  meant  to  be  the 
familiarity  of  old  times  the  tones  of  his  voice  must  have 
jarred  a  little  upon  the  girl,  who  at  that  moment,  like 
the  roses  about  her,  was  an  unconscious  expression  of  a 
sacred  demesne  into  which  the  implications  of  those 
tones  had  never  entered. 

Seeing  her  startled  look,  he  called  to  her  assuringly : 

"Don't  run  away,  Kate.     I  want  to  talk  to  you." 

The  betrayal  of  deliberate  purpose  in  his  visit  was  not 

calculated  to  disarm  her  trepidation,  but  she  met  it  with 

a  colourless  "Good-morning,  Mr.  Heckshent, "  and   he 


BACKWARD  55 

came  tip  the  steps  and  sat  down  close  beside  her,  which 
made  her  involuntarily  move  her  chair  a  Httle  away. 
Whereupon  he  instantly  widened  the  distance  between 
them  in  an  absurd  effort  to  close  the  breach. 

"Don't  be  skittish,  "  he  said.  "I  came  up  to  tell  you 
that  I  have  reformed.  I  haven't  drank  anything  in  a 
week, " 

Something  in  the  girl's  shrinking  look  must  have  told 
him  that  he  had  begun  feet  foremost,  for  he  immediately 
added : 

"I  didn't  mean  exactly  that.  You've  heard  a  lot  of 
things  about  me,  and  most  of  'em  pretty  tough,  I'll  allow, 
but  I've  sworn  off  for  good.  A  fellow  has  to,  sometimes, 
and  I  thought  I  might  as  well  begin  now.  We  can  under- 
stand each  other  better." 

At  this  Kate  got  up.  "Mr.  Heckshent,"  she  said, 
"I  think  you  are  making  a  mistake.  I  have  not 
followed  your  habits  closely  enough  to  be  interested  in 
them." 

He  looked  at  her  with  undisguised  admiration  as  she 
stood  there  in  an  attitude  of  shrinking  disdain,  one 
hand  sweeping  the  folds  of  her  white  dress  away  from 
him,  as  if  instinctively  to  protect  it  from  contact.  He 
had  seen  the  heroine  in  the  play  at  Chambersburg  do 
this  inimitably,  but  not  so  spontaneously,  when  the 
villain  made  his  advances,  but  the  only  application  that 
Folingsby  made  of  the  reminder  was  to  see  in  the  girl 
before  him  something  of  the  same  ideal  that  had  looked 
out  of  the  stage  romance.  "Yes,"  he  was  saying  to 
himself,  "by  the  hokey,  she's  the  kind  of  girl  you  read 
about.  How  she  has  changed."  What  he  said  to  her 
was  this: 

"  Well,  you  don't  have  to  go  off  in  a  tantrum,  do  you  ? 
I  guess  I've  followed  you  for  ten  years  a  good  deal  closer 


S6  THE  CONQUERING  OF  KATE 

than  any  other  man  in  this  county,  and  I've  a  right  to 
be  treated  fair. " 

That  seemed  to  nerve  her  a  Httle.  Her  beautiful 
mouth  took  on,  so  far  as  such  a  mouth  could,  a  line  of 
rigidity.     She  dropped  her  skirt  and  sat  down  again. 

"Very  well,  Mr,  Heckshent,  I  will  treat  you  fairly. 
Go  on." 

Then  she  looked  quickly  and  anxiously  toward  the 
south  of  the  house,  as  if  a  little  prayer  had  gone  off  that 
way  that  Sylvia  would  come  up  and  end  this  business. 

Folingsby  did  not  wince  as  he  should  have  done  under 
such  chilly  complaisance.     He  floundered  on. 

"Kate,"  he  said,  "I  know  as  well  as  you  do  that  I 
haven't  done  the  right  thing.  But  give  a  fellow  a  chance, 
I'm  a  different  man  from  this  on.  If  I  hadn't  made  up 
my  mind  to  it,  I  wouldn't  have  the  cheek  to  come  and 
talk  to  you,  though  it's  to  the  interest  of  our  families." 

He  waited  a  moment.  "Go  on,"  said  Kate,  with  a 
frosty  civility. 

"You  are  not  in  a  good  humour  this  morning,"  he 
continued,  "and  that  makes  it  uncomfortable.  But 
anyway,  I  don't  see  why  old  friends  can't  be  reasonable 
and  fix  things  up.  What's  the  good  of  our  beating 
round  the  bush?" 

"I  am  not  beating  round  the  bush,  Mr.  Heckshent," 
said  his  companion  with  growing  congealment.  There 
was  an  awkward  pause  for  a  moment.  Then  he  stumbled 
on: 

"  Gee  whilikens  ! "  he  said.  "  How  you  have  changed  ! " 

"Did  you  have  to  come  here  this  morning,  Mr.  Heck- 
shent, to  tell  me  how  unlike  we  are?" 

"Oh,  I  guess  there  ain't  such  a  wide  difference.  We 
were  both  bom  hereabouts.  I  remember  hearing  your 
father  tell  mine  that  we  had  all  galloped  up  in  the  same 


BACKWARD  57 

paddock,  and  that  was  when  there  were  fences  between 
your  estate  and  ours.  They're  mostly  down  now. 
You  treat  me  as  if  we'd  moved  into  another  coimty. 
It  ain't  fair  to  either  family,  now  we're  grown  up  and 
sensible,  and  that's  what  I  wanted  to  say  to  you.  We 
might  fix  matters  easy  enough,  and  we  ought  to  do  it. 
Leastways,  I  allowed  it  was  manlike  and  neighbourly  to 
come  and  say  so." 

"I  wish,  Mr.  Heckshent, "  said  Kate,  "that  you  would 
tell  me  what  you  think  it  is  we  ought  to  do. " 

"Just  as  if  you  didn't  know,  and  it  hadn't  all  set  that 
way  from  the  start.  It  wouldn't  be  such  a  blamed 
hardship,  would  it  now,  to  keep  the  Catalpas  in  the 
family?" 

"There  are  some  hardships,  Mr.  Heckshent,  that  I 
fancy  would  be  worse  than  losing  the  estate. " 

"Say,  that's  pretty  mean,  ain't  it,  when  I  have  just 
told  you  that  I've  started  in  to  make  a  man  of  myself?" 

"And  I  told  you,"  said  Kate,  "that  whether  you  had 
or  had  not  was  not  of  sufficient  importance  to  me  to 
enlist  my  interest." 

The  cruelty  of  such  an  answer  depends  less  upon  the 
poignancy  of  the  tongue  that  utters  it  than  upon  the 
sensibility  of  the  person  who  is  pierced.  Folingsby  did 
not  writhe ;  he  resented.  But  such  opposing  bitterness 
as  he  was  capable  of  was  flaccid  and  compromising  in 
the  near  presence  of  the  white  figure,  so  close  that  he 
could  have  reached  out  his  arm  and  encircled  it,  as  he 
had  done  many  a  time  when  they  were  children  •  without 
then  knowing  how  precious  was  the  privilege.  His 
resentment  at  this  stage  of  the  conversation  was  baffled 
and  sullen,  but  ready  to  go  down  on  its  marrow-bones 
at  the  slightest  hint.  That  his  old  playmate  coidd  at 
that  distance  interpose  some  kind  of  impassable  chasm, 


58  THE  CONQUERING  OF  KATE 

and  calmly  freeze  him  in  his  every  attempt  to  cross  it, 
was  not  quite  comprehensible  or  even  manageable 
with  his  order  of  faculties.  There  she  sat,  in  her  old 
white  dress,  so  close  that  he  could  see  where  it  had 
been  scrupulously  mended,  and  the  solitary  marguerite 
that  she  wore  on  her  breast  showed  only  the  yellow 
corolla  like  a  modest  gold  button.  Whether  it  was  a 
touch  of  magnanimity  or  only  a  dull  spasm  of  shame, 
who  can  tell,  but  as  he  looked  at  her  he  fingered  the 
posies  in  his  coat  and,  pulling  them  out,  dropped  them 
on  the  porch  between  his  feet. 

Presently  he  said,  with  something  like  a  sigh,  as  he 
threw  himself  back  in  his  chair  and  whipped  his  trousers 
with  his  rattan: 

"I  don't  see  what  I  have  ever  done  to  you  that  you 
should  treat  me  so  infernally  mean  when  I  am  trying 
to  do  my  best.  You  act  as  if  you  didn't  want  to  have 
anything  to  do  with  me. " 

There  was  a  slight  tone  of  appeal  in  his  last  sentence, 
but  her  answer  met  it  with  the  relentless  candour  of 
uncompromising  superiority. 

"Just  as  little  as  possible,  Mr.  Heckshent — as  is  con- 
sistent with  my  respect  for  your  father. " 

Then  at  last  he  was  fairly  stung.  A  gleam  of  the 
Hombolt  inheritance  leaped  into  the  comer  of  his 
black  eye  as  he  sprang  up. 

"How  about  my  mother?"  he  said.  "She's  running 
things  hereabouts,  pretty  much." 

To  this  significant  brutality  that  had  leapt  from  him 
before  he  was  aware  there  could  be  but  one  possible 
answer  from  the  woman  who  was  a  granddaughter  of 
Kate  Bussey  of  the  Catalpas. 

She  stood  up  and  faced  him  a  moment,  then,  seizing 
the  album  as  if  it  were  not  safe  to  leave  it  behind,  she 


BACKWARD  59 

made  a  superb  bow  and  swept  into  the  house,  leaving 
him  there  calHng  to  her  to  come  back. 

It  did  not  occur  to  this  young  man  that  he  was  imitat- 
ing, in  a  very  feeble  way,  the  well-to-do  villain  in  the 
play.  He  was  mainly  occupied  for  some  time  in  trying 
to  realize  that  some  kind  of  inscrutable  barrier  had 
risen  up  between  his  desires  and  their  accomplishment. 
He  mounted  his  horse,  and  without  letting  his  mother 
know,  in  a  fit  of  dumb  desperation  rode  ofiE  to  the 
Tuscarora  Quarries  and  spent  three  days  in  a  reckless 
debauch  at  one  of  the  outlying  boarding-houses.  Once 
on  the  way  out  he  got  off  his  horse  and  sat  down  in  a 
secluded  spot  in  what  was  known  as  the  Witch's  Run, 
and  while  his  animal  nibbled  at  the  wild  grass,  held  his 
head  between  his  hands  in  a  futile  retrospect,  trying  to 
assure  himself  that  what  had  taken  place  on  the  Bussey 
porch  was  final.  That  he  came  to  some  such  conclusion 
was  evident  by  his  exclamation  as  he  got  up  and  caught 
his  horse. 

"Sacked — ^by  gum!"  he  said,  giving  his  bridle  a 
vicious  jerk. 

Three  days  later  he  appeared  at  his  home  with 
shadows  under  his  eyes,  a  slight  hoarseness  in  his  voice 
and  one  or  two  scratches  on  his  cheek.  His  mother 
looked  him  over  with  quick  appraisement. 

"Had  anything  to  straighten  you  this  morning?" 

"No,"  he  replied  gruffly,  as  he  shied  his  hat  into  a 
corner  of  the  sitting-room  where  there  was  a  lounge, 
and  sat  down  in  a  chair  with  his  legs  stretched  out  like  a 
pair  of  skids.     "  Where'd  I  get  anything  this  morning?" 

She  went  out  and  presently  returned  with  a  tumbler 
containing  some  kind  of  liquor.  He  took  it  eagerly 
and  drank  it  off,  his  mother  standing  by  and  waiting 
for  the  glass. 


6o  THE  CONQUERING  OF  KATE 

"You  went  to  the  Grange  before  you  went  to  the 
Rock  Yard?"  she  asked. 

"You've  got  it  right,"  he  said.     "I  did  it." 

She  regarded  him  a  moment  with  more  anger  than 
pity. 

"You're  a  fool,"  she  said. 

"That's  what  I  said  myself.  Who  made  a  fool  of 
me?" 

"Was  she  sassy?" 

"She  was  peert.  She  left  me  standing  on  her  porch 
talking  to  myself.     She's  got  no  use  for  me. " 

He  said  this  with  such  a  blubbery  kind  of  resignation 
that  his  mother's  black  eyes  snapped.  It  was  a  pecu- 
liarity of  hers,  as  it  is  of  many  of  her  sex  similarly 
compounded  and  limited,  that  when  her  emotions  were 
excited  they,  for  want  of  a  sufficient  nervous  conduit, 
expressed  themselves  in  part  along  her  muscles.  Mental 
perturbation  ran  invariably  into  fussy  domestic  activity. 
She  seized  a  broom  which  was  always  standing  some- 
where convenient  and  began  to  sweep. 

"Has  the  new  man  set  in  to  cut  out  the  timber  in 
front?"  she  asked  as  she  began  to  make  a  dust. 

"What's  he  want  to  cut  the  timber  out  in  front  for?" 

"He  don't.  It's  me.  I'll  take  the  house  down  over 
her  head.  You'd  better  make  up  with  her  before  she's 
plowed  under." 

Her  son  regarded  her  with  some  interest.  He  shook 
his  head  negatively,  but  it  was  meant  to  stimulate  her. 

"She  ain't  the  kind  that's  plowed  under,"  he  said. 
"You  hain't  seen  her  lately." 

"You're  afeared  of  her  like  the  old  man.  She'd  twist 
the  whole  family  round  her  finger  if  it  wam't  for  me." 

When  this  pair  were  foot-loose  in  their  secret  affinities 
and  the  Judge  was  "to  Chambers,"  their  vocabulary  had 


BACKWARD  6i 

a  tendency  to  sink  to  the  easy  levels  of  the  mother's 
original  clan.  This  was  especially  the  case  with  the 
mother,  although  the  son  took  up  the  scent  very  much 
as  a  terrier  yaps  after  the  foxhotmd. 

"I  offered  to  let  her  twist  me,"  said  Folingsby,  "but 
she  'lowed  she  wam't  marrying,  at  least  my  kind. 
What  do  you  want  to  kick  up  such  a  blessed  dust  for?" 

"Your  kind,  hey?  And  she  ain't  marryin'.  Mebbe 
she's  settin'  in  for  starvin'.  She  can't  live  on  her  airs, 
can  she?" 

"Well,  it  wouldn't  be  safe  to  kidnap  her.  She'd  fight 
like  a  painter.     What  would  you  do,  old  woman?" 

"Mebbe  I'd  run  the  place  if  I  was  the  Judge's  son. 
Who'll  hev  it  in  the  long  run  ?  You  ought  to  be  gettin' 
your  hand  in,  and  you'd  been  the  superintendent  afore 
now  if  you  wam't  a  skinned  rabbit." 

Mrs.  Heckshent  was  now  standing  on  a  chair,  rubbing 
the  top  of  a  high  old-fashioned  mantel  lustily  with  a 
cloth.  As  she  uttered  her  words  she  set  her  teeth  and 
seemed  to  be  planing  off  the  top  of  that  mantel. 

"She  can  squat  on  her  porch  and  turn  up  her  nose  at 
us,  'cause  there  ain't  a  man  in  my  house,  and  I  a-workin' 
my  fingers  off  and  payin'  my  debts  like  an  honest 
woman,  who  can't  hev  what's  comin'  to  her,  nor  you 
neither." 

Folingsby  was  not  such  a  traditional  dolt  as  to  suppose 
that  Kate  Bussey  could  be  coerced  by  his  mother's 
tactics  into  even  tolerant  treatment  of  him.  He  had 
obtained  a  new  view  of  the  young  lady  in  his  interview 
with  her,  and  she  was  now  invested  with  what  to  most 
men  is  the  highest  stimulative  of  charms — an  unattain- 
able superiority.  But  this  conversation  with  his 
mother  made  his  case,  in  spite  of  his  good  sense,  look 
a  little  less  hopeless.     He  knew  well  enough  that  his 


62  THE  CONQUERING  OF  KATE 

mother  was  not  a  lady,  in  the  quiet  estimation  of  his 
father's  friends,  but  he  was  enough  Hke  his  mother  to 
beHeve  that  such  a  conclusion  was  in  some  way  his 
father's  fault,  not  his  mother's,  just  as  his  recent 
debauch  was  Kate  Bussey's  fault.  Nevertheless,  he 
knew  enough  of  the  character  of  both  his  parents  to  see 
that  his  mother  would  probably  have  her  way  as  she 
had  had  it  so  often  before,  and  he  felt  a  strong  inclina- 
tion to  exhibit  his  advantages  to  the  Busseys.  After 
all,  they  were  helpless,  and  it  was  a  good  opportunity  to 
retaliate  for  Kate's  treatment  of  him,  by  putting  on 
a  few  airs  of  patronage  himself.  Besides  (and  here 
was  no  doubt  the  real  animus),  the  new  picture  of  the 
woman  in  the  white  dress  had  seized  upon  him  with 
ineradicable  persistency. 

He  mooned  about  for  a  day  or  two  and  found  himself 
wandering  aimlessly  in  the  Bussey  timber,  like  a  satyr, 
peering  from  behind  beech  trunks  in  the  direction  of 
the  house,  as  if  to  reassure  himself  by  some  possible 
reappearance  of  the  white  dress  that  what  he  had 
experienced  was  not  a  dream.  Then,  in  one  of  his 
more  desperate  moods,  he  walked  the  road  around 
the  mansion  one  day,  trying  to  look  like  a  prospective 
proprietor,  poking  the  stained  clapboards  with  his 
rattan,  stooping  down  to  examine  the  foundation,  and 
whistling  carelessly  so  that  if  there  was  an  open  sash 
somebody  would  understand  that,  however  inevitable 
fate  might  be,  he  at  least  was  not  above  amicable 
relations.  In  this  walk  he  was  almost  upset  by  Sylvia, 
who  came  upon  him  suddenly  round  the  comer  of 
the  house. 

"Goodness  sakes,  Mr.  Heckshent,"  she  exclaimed, 
"how  you  scared  me!     Whatever  are  you  doing?" 

"I  was  just  taking  a  look  over  the  place  to  see  what 


BACKWARD  63 

the  superintendent  is  up  to.  He  is  going  to  cut  down 
the  trees  and  plow  up  the  terraces,  and  I  just  wanted 
to  see  if  he  had  begun  and  how  it  looked.  It's  too  bad, 
but  I  s'pose  it  must  be  done." 

This  portentous  irony  reversed  itself  in  the  passage 
to  Sylvia's  ears  and  reached  her  as  a  mere  humour. 
That  he  should  be  entirely  ignorant  of  what  had  taken 
place  and  be  swelling  round  there  like  a  young  turkey- 
cock  was  too  good  a  joke  to  be  let  slip  by  a  girl  of  her 
temperament,  so  she  clapped  her  hands  and  cried: 

"Oh,  that  isn't  half  of  it.  You  haven't  heard  all  the 
particulars.  He  is  going  to  put  pig-pens  under  the 
parlour  windows  and  have  the  pigs  killed  on  the  front 
porch.  Now  that  is  something  like  improvement. 
We  are  getting  a  tent  ready  to  live  in.  If  you  have  any 
influence  with  the  superintendent,  I  hope  you  will  ask 
him  to  let  us  eat  the  chestnuts  in  the  woods." 

Here  the  young  man  stopped  her,  with  a  very  super- 
fluous seriousness. 

"What's  the  use  of  my  interfering?"  he  said.  "I 
guess  your  sister  don't  want  me  putting  my  oar  in." 

"Oh,  put  it  in,"  exclaimed  Sylvia.  "I'm  sure  the 
superintendent  will  not  mind,  if  we  don't." 

This  sort  of  badinage  went  on  for  a  few  moments 
until  Folingsby  beat  a  retreat,  and  then  Sylvia  flew  to 
her  aunt  and  sister  with  quite  a  different  story. 

"What  do  you  think?"  she  exclaimed  in  short 
breaths,  as  she  found  Aunt  Sussex  and  Kate  with  their 
heads  together  in  an  upper  room,  "The  overseer  of 
the  estate  is  going  to  cut  out  the  trees  and  plow  up  the 
lawns.  It's  just  what  you  predicted.  Folingsby  has 
just  told  me  himself." 

"Was  he  here  again?"  asked  Kate,  looking  up  with 
a  strange  disregard  of  the  danger  of  the  situation. 


64  THE  CONQUERING  OF  KATE 

"Yes,"  replied  Sylvia;  "and  he  knows." 

Aunt  Sussex  got  up  and  shut  the  door.  "My  dear," 
she  said  to  Kate  with  her  usual  calmness,  "it  will  be 
necessary  to  send  for  the  Judge  and  explain  to  him  that 
arrangements  are  making  to  pay  off  the  indebtedness. 
When  he  understands  the  new  turn  matters  have 
taken  he  will  of  course  discharge  the  overseer  and 
stop  the  devastation.  It  is  simply  a  matter  of  time, 
and  it  will  not  do  to  have  the  place  ruined  while  we  are 
waiting." 

Kate  looked  at  the  matter  rather  wearily,  Sylvia 
thought,  and  so  Aunt  Sussex  sent  for  the  Judge  to  find 
that  he  was  "to  Chambers,"  as  usual,  and,  as  she  added 
with  superfluous  acrimony,  "keeping  out  of  the  way 
of  his  wife.  If  he  had  any  humanity,  he  would  take 
his  son  with  him." 

"Then,"  continued  Aunt  Sussex,  "we  shall  have  to 
see  his  overseer,  humiliating  as  it  will  be.  He  must  be 
warned." 

"In  that  case,  you  may  leave  me  out,"  said  Kate. 
"I  do  not  wish  to  see  the  overseer." 

"Oh,  I'll  see  him,"  replied  Aunt  Sussex,  drawing 
herself  up.     "You  leave  him  to  me." 

And  then  she  wrote  a  frigid  note  and  sent  it  off  by 
Pierson.     It  read  as  follows: 

"John  Burt. 

''Sir:  When  your  arduous  labours  permit,  will  you 
call  at  the  Grange  a  moment  on  a  matter  of  business  ? 

"  Respectfully, 

"  Sussex  Bussey." 


CHAPTER  V 
Subtle  Antagonisms 

John  Burt  was  just  about  to  set  out  for  the  railroad 
station  when  Miss  Sussex  Bussey's  summons  reached 
him.  He  was  in  high  spirits,  for  he  had  received  a  letter 
from  an  old  friend  who  had  found  out  where  he  was  and 
proposed  visiting  him.  He  looked  at  his  watch  and 
found  that  he  had  time  to  walk  over  to  the  Grange 
and  ascertain  what  was  wanted  of  him  before  going  to 
the  station. 

It  was  about  ten  o'clock  in  the  morning  when  he 
presented  himself  at  the  Bussey  mansion  and  was 
ushered  into  the  parlour  by  Leesha  with  the  large  cere- 
moniousness  that  had  so  little  opportunity  to  express 
itself.  One  of  the  cut-glass  candelabra  was  Ut  on  the 
mantel,  for  it  was  a  dark  morning  and  the  trees  made 
the  room  dusky.  He  sat  down  in  one  of  the  heavy  old 
chairs  and  surveyed  the  spacious  apartment.  Its  tar- 
nished gilt-and-white  decoration,  and  marble  caryatides 
holding  up  the  mantel,  in  the  candlelight  gave  the  place 
a  stately  air  of  yesterday. 

Miss  Sussex  Bussey  in  due  time  came  in,  stiff  and 
creaking  in  black  silk.  Very  fragile  and  ceremonious 
she  was,  and  looked  to  John  Burt  as  if  she  had  stepped 
out  of  an  old  canvas  for  the  occasion.  She  sat  down 
very  deliberately  and  composed  herself. 

"Mr.  Burt,"  she  said — "I  beg  pardon,  have  I  the 
name  right? — I   sent  for  you,   because  the  principal, 

65 


66  THE  CONQUERING  OF  KATE 

Judge  Heckshent,  is  away.  We  prefer  to  deal  with  the 
principal  when  we  can,  but  in  his  absence  we  are  com- 
pelled, sir,  to  deal  with  his  agent." 

John  Burt  could  not  help  wondering  why  she  should 
take  such  pains  to  put  her  disdain  in  front  of  her 
business. 

"It  is  important,  sir,"  she  continued,  "to  inform  you 
that  arrangements  are  making  to  take  the  estate  out 
of  the  courts.  We  intend  in  a  few  days  to  clear  off  the 
indebtedness,  and  in  the  meanwhile  we  wish  to  warn 
you  against  proceeding  in  the  destruction  of  the 
property." 

Here  Miss  Bussey  stopped  a  moment  to  let  her  words 
settle  themselves  securely  in  the  young  man's  mind 
and  to  let  him  frame  an  apology. 

"Madam,"  he  said,  as  courteously  as  he  could,  "let 
me  ask  you  one  question,  are  you  the  principal  on  the 
part  of  the  estate?" 

She  put  the  back  of  her  hand,  which  was  covered 
with  a  black  half-mit,  to  her  mouth,  and  gave  a  little 
cough  of  self-assurance. 

"Strictly  speaking,  I  am  not,"  she  said  ;  "but  Miss 
Kate  Bussey  asked  me  to  represent  her  in  the  matter. 
I  am  her  aunt.  She  may  have  felt  that  you  would  give 
more  heed  to  my  request  than  you  have  given  to 
hers." 

"Then  I  beg  your  pardon,"  said  John  Burt.  "I, 
myself,  prefer  to  deal  with  the  principal.  You  see,  we 
agree  perfectly  at  the  start." 

He  felt  afterward,  as  he  thought  of  the  fragile  little 
old  woman,  that  this  petty  triumph  was  unworthy 
of  him,  but  just  then  he  was  a  little  nettled. 

"Very  well,"  said  Aunt  Bussey,  who  concealed  her 
pique  admirably.     "I  will  call  Miss  Kate  Bussey,  but 


SUBTLE  ANTAGONISMS  67 

I  think  we  could  exchange  our  views  more  calmly  with- 
out her." 

"I  assure  you,"  replied  John  Burt,  with  a  laboured 
bow,  "that  I  will  endeavour  to  preserve  the  serenity  of 
a  gentleman  under  the  most  trying  conditions." 

Whereupon  Aunt  Sussex  made  a  return  bow  and  went 
out  with  a  rustle. 

Left  to  himself,  the  young  man  lay  back  and  smiled. 
It  was  the  first  time  in  his  experience  that  business  had 
been  prefaced  with  a  minuet.  He  waited  five  minutes 
with  the  quiet  exultation  of  one  who  has  checkmated 
the  diplomacy  of  the  past  with  the  easy  directness  of 
the  present.  Then  he  began  to  get  restless.  He 
yawned,  got  up  and  strode  about  curiously,  picked  up 
a  book  from  the  centre-table,  went  to  the  candelabra 
and  turned  the  pages.  "Friendship's  Offering — 1849." 
He  laid  it  down,  and  going  to  a  bookcase,  read  the  names 
of  the  volumes  in  the  paUid  flicker  of  the  candle.  The 
titles  whispered  as  it  were  of  a  closed  era:  "History 
of  the  Huguenots,"  "The  Wide,  Wide  World,"  "The 
Wandering  Jew,"  "Eliza  Cooke's  Poems,"  Guizot  and 
Lamartine.  A  fantastic  notion  slipped  through  his 
mind  that  books  were  hke  their  authors  and  perished, 
leaving  only  their  titles  for  tombstones.  Finally  he 
picked  up  a  heavy  album  from  the  table  and  stood  by 
the  window  turning  the  pages  to  kill  time.  What  was 
his  surprise  to  find  that  it  was  a  collection  of  sketch 
plans  in  ink  and  water-colour  of  what  were  evidently 
projected  improvements  on  the  Bussey  estate.  It  had 
been  made  years  before,  and  the  colours  were  faded,  but 
he  saw  at  a  glance  that  the  work  had  been  done  by  an 
engineer  and  an  artist,  and  as  he  studied  it  rapidly  he 
perceived  that  it  was  a  noble  and  generous  scheme  of 
old-fashioned  enrichment  in  which  the  influence  of  the 


68  THE  CONQUERING  OF  KATE 

Italian  examples  were  still  apparent.  His  eye  was 
rapid  and  his  memory  good,  and  it  did  not  take  him  long 
to  acquaint  himself  with  the  general  plan. 

How  long  he  stood  there  it  would  be  ungracious  to 
Aunt  Sussex  to  say.  She  was  vainly  urging  Miss  Kate 
to  come  down,  and  Kate  was  stubbornly  refusing. 
"Tell  him  to  go  away — to  do  his  worst — but  to  spare 
me  any  more  interviews,"  said  Kate,  and  so  Aunt 
Sussex  came  down  the  stairs  again,  slowly,  holding  on 
to  the  hand-rail  as  if  she  felt  more  keenly  than  before 
the  need  of  support. 

As  John  Burt  stood  there  at  the  window  intently 
pouring  over  the  album,  the  apron  of  cut  tissue-paper 
that  hung  over  the  grate  gave  a  sudden  rustle  and  flap 
as  if  it  were  going  up  the  chimney.  The  door  had 
opened  softly  and  Aunt  Sussex  had  reappeared. 

"Miss  Kate  Bussey,"  she  said,  "begs  to  be  excused. 
She  does  not  feel  that  her  presence  is  at  all  necessary 
to  the  conveyance  of  a  simple  warning.  She  desires 
me  to  notify  you  if  you  go  on  with  the  defacement  and 
destruction  of  the  property,  that  the  estate  will  put  in  a 
claim  for  trespass  and  damages  when  the  indebtedness 
is  liquidated.  She  wished  me  to  say  that  this  notifica- 
tion applies  especially  to  your  threat  to  cut  down  the 
timber  and  plow  up  the  terraces." 

"I  beg  your  pardon,  madam — threat,  did  you  say? 
My  threat?" 

"Yes,  sir  ;  we  have  it  from  the  best  of  authority  that 
you  intend  to  commit  that  outrage  if  not  restrained." 

John  Burt's  lip  twitched  a  little  with  vexation. 
"May  I  ask  you  for  your  authority?"  he  said. 

"I  don't  think  it  is  necessary  to  go  into  that,  sir.  It 
is  sufficient  for  us  that,  you  have  received  our  notifica- 
tion." 


SUBTLE  ANTAGONISMS  69 

Then  Aunt  Sussex  bowed  with  an  unmistakable  air  of 
finahty.  There  was  nothing  more  to  be  said.  John 
Burt  thought  otherwise. 

"Madam,"  he  said,  "you  surprise  and  pain  me. 
You  request  me  to  come  here  with  no  other  apparent 
purpose  than  to  affront  me.  You  inform  me  when  I 
arrive  that  you  would  not  deal  with  me  at  all  if  you 
could  find  any  one  else,  and  then  you  accuse  me  of  some- 
thing which  I  cannot  think  ever  entered  any  mind  but 
your  own.  There  appears  to  be  nothing  left  for  me  to 
do  but  to  thank  you  for  your  suspicions  and  absent 
myself  from  your  injustice.  I  hope  you  will  not  think 
me  rude  if  I  suggest  that  hereafter  you  deal  with  the 
principal." 

He  did  not  speak  loudly,  but  he  stood  near  the  open 
door,  and  the  big  hall  was  like  a  sounding-board,  so  that 
all  that  was  said  reached  Sylvia,  who  was  craning  over 
the  balustrade  above. 

A  moment  later  John  Burt  had  bowed  himself 
out  and  Aunt  Sussex  had  blown  out  the  candelabra 
lights,  put  the  chain  upon  the  hall  door,  and 
gone  wearily  up  the  stairs  to  her  room,  where  it  was 
possible  to  arrange  her  ruffled  feelings  before  seeing 
Miss  Kate. 

Sylvia,  on  the  other  hand,  never  stopped  to  arrange 
her  feelings,  but  broke  into  Miss  Kate's  room  precipi- 
tately. Kate  was  in  dishabille,  her  feet  on  a  cushioned 
stool,  her  hair  hanging  down  her  back  and  an  open  letter 
lying  on  her  lap.  She  did  not  look  round  as  Sylvia 
entered,  but  continued  to  gaze  dreamily  through  the 
window  toward  those  misty  valleys  that  ran  blue  and 
soft  toward  the  Shenandoah. 

"Do  you  know  what  I  think?"  exclaimed  Sylvia. 
"Aunt  has  just  as  much  tact  as  a  porcupine.     'Loath- 


70  THE  CONQUERING  OF  KATE 

some  ruffians'  haven't  that  kind  of  a  voice  and  don't 
use  that  kind  of  language." 

Kate  continued  pensively  indifferent. 

"'Madam,'  he  said,"  continued  Sylvia  oratorically, 
with  a  superb  gesture,  "  *  I  thank  you  for  your  suspicions 
and  will  absent  myself  from  your  injustice.'  Say, 
Kate,  a  young  man  who  can  cut  Aunty  down  like 
that  isn't  going  to  waste  any  time  cutting  down 
trees.  I  heard  every  word  of  it — it  was  quite 
orchestral.  I  wish  he'd  come  up  here  every 
day  and  spout.  Kate,  dear,  what's  the  matter  with 
you?" 

The  girl  came  up  and  put  her  arm  about  her  sister's 
neck  softly.  Kate  picked  up  the  letter  in  her  lap 
limply  and  gave  it  to  Sylvia. 

"Oh,  may  I  read  it?"  exclaimed  the  girl,  running  her 
eye  rapidly  over  the  page  and  then  exclaiming  with 
pure  girlish  impulse:  "What  a  dismal,  formal,  heartless 
affair." 

"It's  a  month  old,"  said  Kate. 

"So  it  is.     It  was  written  in  June." 

"Perhaps,"  said  Kate  musingly,  "something  has 
happened  to  him." 

"And  you  were  worrying.  How  stupid  I  am.  Shall 
I  comb  your  hair  ?  Wait  till  I  go  to  my  room  and  fetch 
the  comb." 

"I'm  not  worrying,"  said  Kate,  when  her  sister  came 
back  with  the  one  favourite  comb  that  did  joint  work  for 
the  several  boudoirs.  "Perhaps  I  ought  to  worry  more 
than  I  do.  A  hundred  things  may  have  happened  in  a 
month  and  we  never  hear  a  word  of  what  is  going  on  in 
the  world." 

"Why — what  could  have  happened?" 

The  comb  was  now  slipping  through  the  long  hair 


SUBTLE  ANTAGONISMS  71 

soothingly,  and  the  operation  seemed  to  have  a  magnetic 
influence  on  Miss  Kate's  mind. 

"Why — storms,  cyclones,  fires,  collisions — and  then 
there  are  fogs  and  icebergs." 

"And  pirates,"  said  Sylvia,  desirous  of  adding  to  the 
list.  "  Heavens  !  What  if  Mr.  Joumingham  has  walked 
the  plank?" 

"But  it  isn't  necessary  to  pull  my  hair  out  by  the 
roots,  if  he  has,  is  it?" 

"Gracious !  How  carelessly  you  speak  of  such  awful 
possibilities !  And  you  forget  the  springing  aleak  in 
mid-ocean.  I  fancy  that's  worse  than  all  the  rest. 
Anyway,  it's  more  exciting.  I  can  hear  the  dreadful  cry 
— '  All  hands  to  the  pumps ! '  Oh,  dear,  what  if  Mr. 
Joumingham  has  been  labouring  at  the  pumps  day  and 
night  while  we  have  been  taking  our  sleep  and  our  meals 
regularly  and  carelessly.  I  wonder  if  Mr.  Joumingham 
is  a  good  man  at  the  pumps,  and  if  the  pumps  on  ship- 
board work  like  ours.  What  a  dismal  noise  there 
must  be." 

"We  never  see  the  papers  any  ihore,"  said  Kate; 
"there's  no  telling  what  may  have  happened,  and 
then " 

"Yes,  and  then " 


"Then  he  may  not  have  started." 

Sylvia  dropped  the  handful  of  hair,  came  round  in 
front  of  her  sister,  and  sat  down  on  the  stool  to  look  into 
her  face  inquiringly. 

"Dear,"  she  said,  "you  don't  act  as  if  there  was  any 
joy  in  that  letter." 

"Did  you  think  that  what  I  did  was  done  for  the  joy 
of  it?" 

Sylvia  jumped  up  impulsively,  but  rapid  as  her  body 
sometimes  was,  her  mind  had  more  celerity. 


72  THE  CONQUERING  OF  KATE 

"Write  him  another  letter — quick — and  tell  him  you 
have  changed  your  mind.  It  will  save  passage  money 
and  explanations." 

Kate  pulled  her  sister  down,  kissed  her,  and  said  that 
would  not  be  like  a  Bussey.  "Now,  do  up  my  hair. 
Aunty  is  coming." 

"Well,"  said  Aunt  Sussex,  "I  put  a  flea  in  that  young 
man's  ear.  He  cannot  say  now  that  he  did  not  have 
fair  warning." 

"Gracious,"  cried  Sylvia,  "it  sounded  as  if  he  was 
giving  you  warning." 

Aunt  Sussex  never  gave  much  heed  to  what  Sylvia 
said,  and  at  this  moment  she  disregarded  her  entirely. 

"The  arrogance  of  the  man,"  continued  the  aunt,  "  is 
astonishing.     The  idea  of  his  talking  to  me  as  he  did." 

"It  serves  you  right,  Aunty,"  said  Kate,  "for  descend- 
ing to  such  a  parley." 

"Descend!"  exclaimed  Aunt  Sussex.  "Does  one 
descend  in  giving  orders  to  an  inferior  ?" 

"Well,  the  inferior  didn't  descend,"  cried  Sylvia. 

"Syl  is  right.  Aunty.  This  man  is  a  mere  incident. 
The  real  vandal  is  over  in  the  Judge's  house." 

"You  astonish  me,  my  dear.  Do  you  suppose  that  I 
would  condescend  to  talk  to  that  woman  ?" 

"No,"  said  Kate.  "I  shall  have  to  talk  to  her  myself. 
Having  been  honoured  by  a  proposal  of  marriage  from 
her  monkey,  I  suppose  that  it  is  my  pleasing  duty  to 
explain  matters  to  her.  Dear  me,  I  wonder  if  our 
parterres  are  worth  it." 

The  invitation  sent  to  Mrs.  Heckshent  to  call  at  the 
Grange  met  with  a  reception  of  another  order. 

"If  her  ladyship  wants  to  see  her  betters,  she  can 
come  here,"  said  Mrs.  Heckshent.  "That's  the  differ- 
ence.    I  ain't  running  after  favours." 


SUBTLE  ANTAGONISMS  .     73 

But  her  son  Folingsby  viewed  the  matter  in  another 
light.  He  felt  sure  that  Miss  Kate  had  regretted  her 
harsh  treatment  of  him,  and  desired  in  a  roundabout 
way  to  make  some  slight  amends,  and  perhaps  to  open 
a  new  approach ;  she  had  thought  the  matter  over  and  it 
was  only  fair  to  give  her  another  chance.  As  for  running 
after  favours,  why,  that  was  a  man's  business  with  a 
woman.  And  so,  after  a  prolonged  dispute,  his  mother, 
without  a  word  of  assent,  allowed  him  to  get  the 
phaeton  and  drive  her  up  to  the  Bussey  mansion. 

It  was  several  years  since  she  had  last  been  there,  and 
as  her  son  drove  her  leisurely  round  the  house  her  recol- 
lections were  tinged  with  a  little  bitterness.  She  felt 
that  she  had  been  ill-used  and  in  some  way  despoiled 
and  pushed  aside.  Twice  she  made  the  circuit  of  the 
mansion  so  that  she  could  exercise  her  proprietary  inter- 
est in  it,  and  then  Folingsby  waited  in  the  vehicle  while 
she  made  the  visit.  He  had  a  confused  sense  that  in 
some  way  she  would  patch  up  his  errors  and  bring  mat- 
ters round  to  their  old  shape  again. 

The  two  women  met  in  the  parlour  where  John  Burt 
had  danced  his  minuet.  They  shook  hands,  one  a  little 
overcordial   and  the  other  politely  dignified  and  calm. 

"Some  pretty  bad  holes  in  that  wood  road,"  began 
Mrs.  Heckshent.  "Must  be  as  much  as  your  life's  worth 
with  a  light  wagon  at  night." 

Kate  cut  her  short.  "I  am  much  obliged  to  you, 
Mrs.  Heckshent,"  she  said,  "for  coming  so  promptly, 
but  it  is  a  matter  that  interests  both  of  us,  and  I  knew 
that  you  would  like  to  have  all  misunderstandings 
cleared  away." 

"Why,  yes,"  replied  Mrs.  Heckshent  ;  "we've  been 
neighbours  too  long  to  hev  misunderstandings.  I  am 
sure  I've  done  my  best  to  keep  up  a  right  sperrit,  and 


74  THE  CONQUERING  OF  KATE 

when  I  think  that  Folingsby  was  christened  in  this  here 
very  room  when  you  were  a  baby,  and  your  grandmother 
passed  him  round  among  the  best  in  the  land,  it  does  seem 
powerful  strange  how  families  wander  apart  as  shouldn't. 
Folly  was  awful  cut  up  when  you  folks  took  to  ridin' 
past  without  stoppin'." 

"He  called  here  the  other  day,"  said  Kate,  "and 
in  a  short  conversation  gave  me  to  understand  that  you 
had  all  along  counted  on  an  alliance  of  our  families." 

"Ain't  that  just  like  him?"  remarked  Mrs.  Heckshent. 
"  It  shows  what  a  boy  he  is  to  use  his  mother's  legs  to 
stand  on  when  he's  doin'  his  courtin'." 

"I  understood  him  to  imply  that  you  had  made  up 
your  mind  that  I  was  to  marry  him." 

"The  more  fool  he  for  saying  it.  I've  generally  said, 
let  young  folks  make  their  own  beds,  'cause  they've  got 
to  lay  in  them." 

"Did  he  tell  you  what  passed  between  us  ?" 

"P'r'aps  he  did.  It  was  in  one  ear  and  out  t'other. 
I've  got  too  much  work  to  tend  to  to  stew  over  young 
folks'  goings  on." 

"There  were  no  goings  on,"  said  Kate.  "It  was  a  very 
brief  conversation ;  but  as  he  went  away,  I  fear,  without 
understanding  me,  I  thought  I  would  like  to  make  the 
matter  plain  to  you,  especially  as  he  referred  to  you  in 
what  he  said." 

"Oh,  I've  always  had  your  interest  at  heart,  as  well 
as  his,  and  he  don't  bear  any  grudge.  Leastways,  it's 
soon  made  up.  He's  young  and  apt  to  go  off  the 
handle." 

"He  gave  me  to  understand  that  the  interests  of  the 
two  families  would  be  assured  by  a  marriage." 

"And  you  fought  shy  at  first.  Well,  I  don't  blame 
you.     I  did  myself  at  your  age." 


SUBTLE  ANTAGONISMS  75 

"No,"  said  Kate  ;  "I  told  him  plainly  that  it  was 
impossible." 

"And  he  wouldn't  hev  it.  What  boy  would  when 
he's  over  head  and  ears  !  " 

"That  is  why  I  wanted  to  tell  you,  who  are  so  much 
older  and  more  experienced,  as  plainly  as  possible  that  I 
cannot  marry  your  son." 

Mrs.  Heckshent  could  not  help  exhibiting  a  little 
surprise  at  this,  for  she  had  been  complacently  making 
up  her  mind  to  quite  another  conclusion.  Her  black 
eyes  opened  a  little  wider  and  she  hesitated  a  moment. 
Then  she  said : 

"I  guess  yoimg  people  don't  always  know  what  they 
can  do  till  they  try,  and  then  they  can't  always  do 
what  they  want." 

"I  hope,"  said  Miss  Bussey,  "that  you  will  permit  me 
to  know  my  own  mind  and  to  speak  very  plainly.  The 
reason  why  I  caimot  marry  your  son  is  that  I  am  going 
to  marry  somebody  else.  The  gentleman  is  on  his 
way  from  England  now." 

As  she  said  this  a  little  glow  of  colour  appeared  in 
her  cheek,  but  her  manner  was  unchanged. 

"The  marriage,"  she  said,  "will  bring  about  a  settle- 
ment of  the  debts  of  the  estate,  and  it  was  that  I  wished 
to  speak  about.  I  thought  it  better  to  tell  you  myself, 
and  not  wait  for  the  Judge  to  inform  you,  because  I 
understood  your  son  to  say  that  you  had  some  positive 
ideas  about  the  improvement  of  the  place.  Notice 
of  settlement  will  be  conveyed  by  my  attorneys 
with  the  request  that,  pending  the  liquidation  of  the 
debts,  the  overseer  shall  be  withdrawn  and  the  work 
stopped." 

Mrs.  Heckshent  was  for  a  moment  coldly  and  omi- 
nously silent.     Her  black  eyes  seemed  to  smoiilder  with  a 


76  THE  CONQUERING  OF  KATE 

suppressed  fire.  It  takes  some  time  to  ignite  such 
natures  by  stabbing  them  with  icicles. 

"You  are  going  to  marry  that  EngHshman?"  she  said 
slowly  and  somewhat  incredulously. 

"I  am  to  be  married  to  Mr.  Journingham  shortly," 
Kate  replied. 

"Well,"  said  Mrs.  Heckshent,  trying  to  focus  her 
mind  upon  the  full  import  of  it,  "it's  about  what  I 
ought  to  have  expected,  when  you  kept  my  boy 
dancin'  for  years.  Do  you  want  to  know  my  opinion 
of  it?" 

"No,"  said  Kate,  "I  don't  care  to  know  your  opinion." 

As  she  said  it,  both  women  stood  up  and  faced  each 
other,  a  little  defiantly  perhaps. 

"To  make  my  own  choice  and  take  my  own  time 
were  among  the  few  privileges  left  to  me,"  continued 
Kate,  "and  your  opinion  could  have  no  weight  in  the 
matter  now." 

"No,"  said  Mrs.  Heckshent,  "you  never  did  have 
much  respect  for  my  opinions,  nor  my  rights  either. 
Mebbe  you'll  change  your  mind." 

"I  think  not,"  said  Kate.  "Of  course,  as  we  intend 
to  clear  off  the  debt,  we  shall  not  permit  the  parterre 
to  be  plowed  up  and  the  timber  to  be  cut  down." 

Mrs.  Heckshent  had  moved  toward  the  door,  and  when 
this  parting  shot  reached  her,  she  turned,  and  Kate  saw 
the  vicious  gleam  in  her  eye. 

"If  the  Judge  had  tended  more  to  his  own  family  and 
not  so  much  to  yours,"  she  said,  "there  wouldn't  hev 
been  much  trouble.  You've  had  your  own  way  in 
pretty  much  everything,  and  I've  drudged  for  mine 
and  paid  my  debts  as  honest  folks  do.  I've  heard  all 
I  want  to.  All  the  lawyers  in  Pennsylvany  and  all  the 
Englishmen   in   England   can't   make   it   no   different. 


SUBTLE  ANTAGONISMS  77 

You  can  talk  to  the  Judge,  and  you've  got  a  slick  tongue. 
But  so  can  I." 

As  she  uttered  the  last  sentence,  she  gave  Miss  Kate 
a  parting  look  which  made  the  young  woman  shrink 
a  little  instinctively.  It  was  a  look  that  coils  and  warns 
and  seems  to  lift  a  venomous  crest  above  shadowy  and 
mysterious  paths. 

Mrs.  Heckshent  went  forth  without  looking  back. 
Folingsby  was  leaning  forward  in  the  waiting 
vehicle  to  catch  a  glimpse  of  Miss  Kate,  who 
should  have  followed  his  mother.  But  the  young 
woman  remained  in  the  parlour  out  of  sight  until 
the  vehicle  disappeared  in  the  trees.  Mrs.  Heckshent, 
climbing  in,  seized  the  reins  from  her  son's 
hands,  and  slapping  the  horse's  haunches  viciously 
with  them,  went  away  at  a  lively  pace.  For 
a  few  moments  Folingsby  lay  back  in  the  seat  and 
watched  her  belabour  the  horse  and  jerk  mercilessly 
at  the  bit  as  they  went  down  through  the  wood-road 
slope,  and  then  he  said: 

"You're  flustered.     She  ain't  marryin',  is  she?" 

"You're  a  fool,"  said  his  mother.  "She's  been 
slickin'  up  to  marry  fer  mor'n  a  month,  but  she  ain't 
marryin'  a  pesky  goslin'  like  you." 

Folingsby's  surprise  and  incredulity  found  expression 
in  characteristic  brevity: 

"Shucks,"  he  said,  "you  ain't  used  to  her." 

As  his  mother  did  not  deign  to  answer  him  immedi- 
ately, but  continued  to  exhibit  a  great  deal  of  super- 
fluous energy  in  driving  the  horse  and  twitching  herself 
about  in  the  seat  as  if  the  journey  had  suddenly  become 
a  matter  of  life  and  death,  he  waited  some  time  and 
then  he  said : 

"Who's  she  goin'  to  marry?" 


78  THE  CONQUERING  OP  KATE 

"She's  goin'  to  marry  the  EngHshman.  He's  coming. 
Been  cut  and  dried  since  spring." 

"Did  she  say  it?" 

"Squar  in  my  teeth,  as  sweet  as  new  milk  and  as 
chilly  as  a  tombstun." 

Folly's  face  assumed  a  dismally  blank  expression  of 
helplessness. 

"Do  you  mean  it?"  he  asked. 

"I  jus'  do.  Her  ladyship  is  goin'  to  chuck  herself  on 
to  that  furriner — pay  up  the  debts,  double  onto  her  airs, 
and  slap  your  old  woman  in  the  face.  If  I'd  had  my 
way  'twould  'a'  been  different.  But  it  was  law  and 
friendship  and  honey fuglin'  with  your  old  man,  and 
durn  chicken-headed  peepin'  with  you.  A'tween  you, 
you've  fixed  it  her  way,  and  I  wish  you  luck." 

When  they  reached  home,  they  both  kept  silent  for 
an  hour,  one  of  them  making  as  much  dust  as  she  could 
and  rattling  the  furniture  about  in  desperation,  the  other 
sitting  on  a  sofa  with  his  head  in  his  hands.  Finally, 
when  he  had  apparently  thought  it  all  out  and  his  mother 
came  in  panting  from  her  exertion,  he  said: 

"Say,  old  woman,  she  can't  do  it.  You  mustn't 
expect  a  man  to  have  it — when  he  wasn't  brought  up  to 
it.  Maybe  I  can't  stop  it  and  maybe  I  can.  Anjrway, 
first  come,  first  served  is  my  idea,  and  if  I  ain't  got 
anything  to  say  to  her,  I'm  powerful  full  of  somethin' 
to  say  to  any  man  who  thinks  I'm  nigger  enough  to 
step  out." 

"Now  you're  talkin',"  said  his  mother.  "Your  jaw 
don't  work  unless  it's  kicked  by  a  mule.  Mebbe  you 
think  you're  as  good  a  man  as  he  is." 

"Well,  I  ain't  goin'  to  be  rolled  down  a  bank  in 
Franklin.  'Twouldn't  be  decent,  while  I've  got  a  side 
holt." 


SUBTLE    ANTAGONISMS  79 

She  looked  at  him  with  a  glittering  eye  and  dropped 
her  voice : 

"As  there's  a  Gourd  in  heaven,"  she  said,  "I  don't 
calculate  she'll  marry  the  Englishman." 

He  got  up,  stood  a  moment  thinking,  and  then  replied: 

"No  more  do  I,  old  woman," 


CHAPTER  VI 
Renewed  Chumship 

A  PICTURESQUE  and  somewhat  imposing  gentleman 
jumped  off  the  train  with  the  two  or  three  other  passen- 
gers at  Bourgeon ville  and  created  a  Httle  flurry  of 
interest  among  the  few  people  there  congregated,  both 
by  his  appearance  and  his  manner.  He  was  dressed 
rather  jauntily  in  loose  summer  attire,  and  towered  a 
little  above  the  rest  of  the  passengers,  who  for  the  most 
part  were  farmers.  He  saluted  John  Burt  by  putting 
one  arm  around  his  shoulders  and  grasping  his  hand. 

"Does  this  railroad  end  here?"  he  asked. 

"Yes,"  said  John  Burt,  giving  his  hand  a  hearty 
shake.     "This  is  its  present  terminus." 

"What  a  relief  to  the  rest  of  the  county,"  said  his 
friend.  "You  see  what  I  have  risked  to  catch  you. 
Let  me  look  at  you.  When  can  I  get  back  to  Cham- 
bersburg?" 

"Not  till  I  let  go  of  you,"  said  John  Burt. 

"Good  enough.  You  can  go  back  with  me.  I  came 
to  fetch  you.  What  have  you — a  hotel  or  a  farmhouse  ? 
What  in  the  name  of  the  Dark  Ages  are  you  doing  here  ? 
Not  married,  I  hope?" 

"No — not  as  bad  as  that." 

"Good.  Then  you  can  tell  me  the  worst.  I  can 
stand  anything  but  that." 

"Why  begin  at  the  dismal  end?  I  am  trying  to  earn 
an  honest  living." 

80 


RENEWED  CHUMSHIP  81 

"Heavens!"  exclaimed  his  friend,  "has  it  come  to 

that?" 

He  surveyed  the  little  station  and  the  few  houses  in 

the  vicinity  with  beaming  incredulity. 

"It  looks  like  a  parable,"  he  said,  "  hiding  something 
in  a  napkin — it  was  a  napkin,  wasn't  it?  But  all  the 
same  I  am  overjoyed  to  get  hold  of  you.  Where's  your 
factory  or  works,  or  your  logging-camp — what  is  it  you 
call  it?" 

"You  get  into  this  trap,"  said  John  Burt,  "and  my 
nigger  will  drive  us  up  to  my  shake-down.  Having 
put  your  head  into  my  net,  the  best  thing  you  can  do  is 
to  submit  gracefully." 

His  friend  submitted  not  only  gracefully  but  beam- 
ingly. It  was  constitutional  with  him.  He  shed  a 
refulgent  bonhomie  like  a  personal  light  round  about 
him.  A  Httle  group  of  gossips  who  were  watching  him 
from  the  station  window  had  their  curiosity  whetted 
by  his  unlikeness  to  anything  that  usually  lit  at  their 
homely  spot.  He  might  be  an  English  tourist,  for  he 
had  an  air  of  easy  importance  and  his  garments  had  the 
piquancy  of  the  latest  news  in  fashions.  Penelly  Seton, 
who  had  driven  down  in  her  basket  phaeton  to  get  the 
mail,  regarded  him  through  the  Uttle  window  with  a 
girl's  quick  appraisement.  She  saw  him  holding  on  to 
John  Burt's  hand  and  she  said:  "Why,  it  must  be 
Mr.  Journingham.  My,  how  he's  changed.  He's  had 
his  hair  and  mustache  bleached  and  come  out  a  blond." 
To  which  a  girl  acquaintance  replied:  "Mr.  Journing- 
ham couldn't  dye  his  age  !  He  was  forty-five  if  he  was 
a  day,  and  he  had  a  face  that  would  turn  milk  sour. 
This  one  looks  like  butter  and  eggs." 

The  Bourgeon ville  vernacular  was  sometimes  very 
apt.    "Butter  and  eggs"  seemed  at  that  moment,  as  the 


82  THE  CONQUERING  OF  KATE 

stranger  turned  a  handsome  face  toward  them  beam- 
ingly, to  be  just  the  quotation  Miss  Penelly  was  in 
search  of,  and  she  gave  it  her  assent  with  a  gurgling 
little  "te-he." 

"Oh,  I'll  tell  you  who  it  is,"  said  Penelly.  "It's  the 
new  superintendent,  and  Mr.  Joumingham  has  sent 
him.  The  other  one  is  going  away.  What  a  shame. 
Butter  and  eggs,"  she  repeated;  "he  looks  as  though 
his  name  might  be  Reginald.  They  act  as  if  they  had 
known  each  other  all  their  lives.  What  hypocrites 
men  are." 

Wholly  unaware  of  the  interest  they  had  awakened, 
the  young  men  climbed  into  the  trap,  and  Com,  the 
coloured  servant — whose  name  was  Comv/allis  and 
who  was  distinguished  among  his  clan  for  having  been 
an  English  officer's  valet  for  one  season  at  Saratoga — 
drove  away  with  them. 

"Tony,"  said  John  Burt,  "yours  is  the  only  familiar 
face  I  have  seen  since  I  came  here,  so  you  will  pardon 
mine  for  taking  on  some  of  your  confounded  elation." 

"See  here — it's  providential,"  said  Tony.  "I  was 
down  at  Gettysburg  with  some  officers — old  comrades  of 
my  governor's — and  stopped  over  on  my  way  back,  at 
Chambersburg.  There  I  heard  of  you — wired  you — 
took  my  life  in  my  hands.  Here  I  am.  Now,  one  ques- 
tion before  all  else.     You  are  not  anchored,  are  you?" 

"Well,  I'm  not  drifting.     Got  tired  of  it." 

"But  you  have  no  bonds  of  servitude — no  damnable 
contracts  that  prevent  you  from  entertaining  angels 
unawares  who  might  carry  you  off.  No  constitutional 
objection  to  being  pulled  from  under  a  bushel  and  set 
upon  a  hill." 

As  he  said  this  he  turned  upon  his  companion  a  face 
suddenly  lit  up  with  cordial  and  handsome  effusiveness. 


RENEWED  CHUMSHIP  83 

It  called  back  a  thousand  recollections  of  old  times  to 
John  Burt,  more  swiftly  and  graphically  than  one  can 
explain.  The  same  wide-open  blue  eyes;  the  same  fair 
skin  like  a  girl's;  the  same  gleam  of  white  teeth  under 
the  heavy  blond  mustache;  the  same  yellow  locks 
sticking  out  in  flat  curls  under  his  Panama  hat.  It 
was  as  if  Tony  had  suddenly  thrown  open  in  that  smile 
the  full  casket  of  his  virtues  and  his  weaknesses.  How 
often  that  smile  had  disarmed  reproof  and  warded  oflE 
justice.  How  often  great  schemes  requiring  grim  and 
ruthless  treatment  had  ended  in  that  beam  of  good 
nature  that  no  one  could  resist  and  that  seemed  to  shed 
a  rosy  light  on  failure  and  disappointment.  Some  men's 
vices  are  so  amiable  that  we  never  can  distinguish  them 
from  their  virtues. 

John  Burt  made  a  sign  to  indicate  that  Com  had  his 
ears  cocked  and  that  it  would  be  well  to  reserve  their 
confidences  until  they  were  alone.  The  remainder  of 
the  journey,  therefore,  was  given  to  non-committal 
news  from  town.  When  they  were  set  down  in  front 
of  the  stone  hut  at  the  Basswood  Spring,  John  Burt 
executed  a  welcome  by  saying:  "This  is  my  villa. 
Such  as  it  is,  you  may  consider  it  yours  ad  interim." 

He  threw  the  door  open,  and  Tony,  poking  his  yellow 
head  in  and  surveying  the  interior,  said: 

"In  the  name  of  desolation,  have  you  squatted?" 

"Provisionally,"  said  his  companion  as  they  entered. 
"You  can  kick  those  heavy  shoes  off  and  I'll  give  you 
a  pipe.  When  you  have  come  down  to  my  level  of 
homely  dishabille,  we'll  pursue  our  explanations. 
Wait  till  I  fetch  a  jug  of  cold  water  from  the  spring." 

Before  John  Burt  came  back,  his  friend  had  taken 
him  at  his  word  and  made  himself  comfortable  in  the 
only  large  chair  the  place  afforded,  and  was  surveying 


84  THE  CONQUERING  OF  KATE 

the  apartment  critically.  Its  air  of  homely  comfort 
evidently  pleased  him.  The  walls  had  been  white- 
washed and  the  floor  scrubbed.  The  master's  accouter- 
ments  furnished  the  decorations,  and  included  a  field-glass 
and  a  gun.  In  the  comer  the  brass  of  a  surveying  level 
shone  brightly,  and  on  the  planks  which  had  been  made 
into  a  large  table  and  covered  with  a  cotton  cloth  there 
were  drawing  materials  and  a  large  sheet  of  white  paper 
fastened  down  with  thumb-tacks.  The  two  low  win- 
dows of  the  place  hung  full  of  sweet-brier  and  scarlet 
runner,  and  the  sun  coming  through  the  green  trans- 
lucence  gave  a  mellow  atmosphere  to  the  room;  but 
above  all,  it  was  that  exclusiveness  of  improvised 
comfort,  which  all  men  at  some  time  in  their  lives  are 
true  enough  to  their  rude  ancestors  to  enjoy,  that  gave 
the  place  its  chief  interest  to  the  visitor. 

"Jack,  my  boy,"  said  Tony,  "suppose  you  cut  all 
minor  duties  and  tell  me  what  the  devil  you  are  trying 
to  do  here." 

"I  am  trying  to  oversee  an  estate." 

"Overseer!  Bless  my  soul!  John  Burt,  mathema- 
tician, Lieutenant  of  Engineers,  scholar,  gentleman,  and 
Master  of  Arts.  Go  on,  and  do  make  it  plausible  and 
short." 

"None  of  which  things,"  said  John  Burt,  "enabled 
me  to  earn  my  living.  It's  a  long  story.  What  are  your 
engagements?" 

"Haven't  any.  Never  had  any.  You  ought  to  know 
that.     You  haven't  got  a  fan,  have  you?" 

John  Burt  hunted  up  an  old  palm-leaf  fan  and  handed 
it  to  him. 

"See  here,"  he  said,  "it's  cooler  out  unde*r  the  trees. 
Let  me  carry  that  chair  out.     My  nigger's  in  the  stable." 

Once  under  the  trees,  Tony  put  his  feet  on  a  camp-stool 


RENEWED  CHUMSHIP  85 

and,  lying  back  in  his  chair,  fanned  himself  indolently 
and  said: 

"This  is  a  business  trip  of  mine,  you  know.  I've 
become  intensely  practical  since  you  saw  me." 

His  companion,  having  seated  himself  where  he  could 
admire  the  comely  comfort  of  his  friend,  was  inclined  to 
be  retrospective. 

"  How  long  is  it  ? "  he  asked. 

"Is  what — since  we  saw  each  other?  Six  years,  as 
I  am  a  beggar." 

"Can't  be." 

"  By  the  calendar  and  the  pity  of  it,  six  mortal  years 
crammed  full  of  mortal  vanity,  in  which  the  whirligig 
has  put  in  its  work  as  usual.  I  have  performed  some 
herculean  feats  since  I  saw  you,  old  fellow — the  most 
herculean  of  all  was  to  pay  my  debts.  You  never  sus- 
pected in  old  times  that  it  was  a  point  of  honour  with 
me  to  pay  my  debts,  did  you?" 

"Yes,  I  did — you  only  needed  time  and  money." 

"  Do  you  remember  that  summer  when  I  trudged  afoot 
from  Berlin  to  Wittemburg  and  went  beastly  broke 
trying  to  walk  in  the  footsteps  of  Martin  Luther." 

"  I  remember  it  very  well.  We  had  a  most  exemplary 
time  of  it  when  I  got  there.  We  did  everything  that 
good  sons  of  Reformers  should  do.  We  pretended  that 
we  found  the  nail-holes  in  the  Schloss  Kirche  where  the 
ninety-five  propositions  were  nailed  up.  We  both 
admired  the  same  Gretchen  and  ate  her  kraut  vora- 
ciously. Have  you  forgotten  her  fat,  pudgy  feet  and 
thick  ankles  and  white  stockings,  and  how  she  laughed 
when  I  tried  to  quote  "Wilhelm  Meister"  to  her?  The 
fleeting  odour  of  garlic  was  Uke  mignonette  in  those 
days,  Tony." 

"That  is  all  very  well,"  said  Tony;  "but  you  never 


86  THE  CONQUERING  OF  KATE 

knew  what  a  hole  I  was  in.  Out  of  funds,  suspected 
of  being  a  spy,  snubbed  by  a  dunder-headed  consul, 
getting  hungrier  every  day,  when  I  happened  to  see 
your  name  in  a  copy  of  the  Beige.  I  had  just  money 
enough  to  post  you  a  letter  to  Lubeck.  You  were  a 
floating  spar  on  my  ocean  of  despair.  I  was  lying  in 
bed  one  morning  in  the  top  of  that  Stadt,  trying  to 
make  sleep  take  the  place  of  a  breakfast,  when  you 
stalked  in  and  held  out  your  hand  with  your  pocketbook 
in  it.  Did  I  give  way  to  any  false  sentiment  or  mock 
modesty?  Didn't  I  just  open  that  pocketbook  and 
take  out  what  I  wanted  while  you  turned  your 
back?" 

"I  believe  you  did,"  said  John  Burt,  laughing;  "but 
as  you  say,  I  had  my  back  turned." 

"Did  I  in  any  manner  impair  the  confidence  which 
you  would  naturally  repose  in  my  promptness  and 
candour?" 

"Upon  my  honour,  you  did  not,"  said  John;  "but 
why  harp  on  it?" 

"You  will  permit  me  to  expect  some  small  show  of 
the  same  virtues  in  others  that  I  possess  myself." 

"No.  It  can't  be  done.  I  have  tried  on  several 
occasions  to  imitate  your  magnificence,  but  I  always 
made  a  failure  of  it.  You  know,  of  course,  that  the 
war  smashed  my  governor  completely,  and  when  I  came 
back  from  Europe  it  was  to  a  rather  grim  prospect. 
Civil  engineering  was  rather  congested  with  army 
officers,  and  my  mother  was  left,  when  all  was  scraped 
together,  including  her  pension,  with  a  beggarly  eight 
hundred  a  year,  and  without  going  into  details  I  may 
say  that  for  a  year  or  two  I  had  a  pretty  tough  time  of 
it,  not  having  been  bred  to  economy." 

"That  was  where  your  infernal  meanness  of  disposi- 


RENEWED  CHUMSHIP  87 

tion  undid  you,"  said  Tony.     "Why  didn't  you  send 
for  me  and  collect  your  debts  like  a  man?" 

"You?     You  were  in  Brazil." 

"Does  it  occur  to  you  that  a  little  thing  like  that 
doesn't  usually  separate  friends,  especially  when  one  of 
them  is  a  creditor?" 

"I  had  just  made  up  my  mind,"  said  John  Burt,  "to 
join  the  Forbes  expedition  to  the  Isthmus,  in  which  I 
was  offered  a  fairly  good  commission,  when  my  uncle, 
Rufus  Burt — you  remember  the  old  gentleman :  he  made 
his  money  in  boulevard  property;  belonged  to  that 
thrifty  gang  who  bought  their  property  first  and  then 
laid  the  boulevards  out  afterward — sent  for  me  one  day, 
and  says  he,  'Look  here,  Jack,  my  boy,  your  mother 
tells  me  you  are  thinking  of  going  off  on  that  Central 
American  speculation.'  *Yes,'  I  replied  ;  'I've  got  to 
do  something  to  make  a  living.'  'Well,  don't  do  that,' 
says  he  ;  '  I'll  put  you  up  to  something  better.  You'll 
die  of  the  Chagres  fever  in  less  than  six  months  down 
there,  and  it's  not  a  fair  shake  for  the  old  lady.  She's 
a  good  deal  cut  up  about  it  and  has  been  to  see  me.  If 
you  don't  mind,  I  can  squeeze  you  into  our  Southern 
Improvement  Company.  What  we  want  is  a  lively 
young  prospector  down  along  the  Maryland  line  to  keep 
his  eyes  open  for  us.  The  war  has  left  things  in  pretty 
bad  shape  and  there's  some  good  bargains  to  be  snapped 
up.  The  salary  will  not  amount  to  much,  but  it  will  be 
a  cold  day  when  we  can't  squeeze  out  ten  per  cent,  for 
you  on  the  sales !  The  proposition  did  not  stir  my 
enthusiasm,  but  the  next  day  he  got  a  letter  from  a 
Judge  Heckshent  of  this  place,  who  was  looking  for  a 
man  to  pull  this  estate  out  of  what  he  called  ruck  and 
ruin.  'Now,  then,'  says  my  foxy  uncle,  'there  you  are 
— ^just  the  caper  for  you.     Make  your  headquarters  on 


88  THE  CONQUERING  OF  KATE 

the  Judge's  property  and  he  can  help  pay  for  your  pros- 
pecting. If  you  don't  strike  it  rich,  it's  your  own  fault. ' 
And  here  I  am." 

"Does  your  story  end  there?"  asked  his  companion, 
with  a  yawn. 

"No;  that's  where  it  begins.  Having  been  signed, 
sealed  and  delivered  into  a  kind  of  paradise  where  every 
prospect  pleases  and  become  unduly  inflamed  with  real 
estate  schemes,  I  find  myself  between  the  upper  and 
nether  millstone  of  an  owner  and  a  possessor.  One 
employs  me  and  the  other  heaps  obloquy  upon  my 
defenseless  head.  The  de  jure  owner  has  a  mortgage 
upon  the  estate,  but  he  is  also  some  kind  of  a  guardian 
of  the  de  facto  possessor,  and  their  views  do  not  accord." 

"Look  here.  Jack,  is  there  any  heart  interest  in  this 
story?" 

"Not  a  twinge.  The  only  interest  is  at  the  rate  of 
six  per  cent.,  and  hasn't  been  paid  in  six  years." 

"Good,"  said  Tony;  "and  you  don't  like  your  job." 

"I  am  not  over  squeamish,  and  I  have  an  idea  that  if 
I  could  find  a  purchaser  for  this  estate  I  might  turn  an 
honest  penny.  It  is  really  a  magnificent  domain,  and 
it  will  go  under  the  hammer  sooner  or  later.  If  you'll 
stop  over  a  day  or  two  with  me  I'll  show  it  to  you.  It 
would  just  suit  some  of  those  young  fellows  at  the 
Sportsmen's  Club  whose  fathers  have  been  skinning  the 
Government.     I've  been  making  a  map  of  it." 

"What's  the  place  worth?"  asked  Tony. 

"As  a  farm  it  isn't  worth  the  interest,  in  its  present 
condition.  As  a  park — well,  to  the  right  sort  of  a  buyer 
it  ought  to  fetch  $50  an  acre.  There's  a  thousand  acres 
and  a  house  that  must  have  cost  $20,000.  If  you 
lean  over  you  can  see  the  comer  of  it  among  the  trees." 

"Never  mind  the  house,"  said  Tony,  who  was  evi- 


RENEWED  CHUMSHIP  89 

dently  indisposed  to  change  his  position.  "How  long 
will  it  take  you  to  dispose  of  the  place?" 

"It  is  not  plain  sailing.  There  are  three  women  in 
the  house  who  guard  it  with  ancestral  fury." 

"Young  women?" 

"The  heiress  is  a  young  woman,  and  in  the  estimation 
of  the  county  is  the  finest  fruit  the  place  has  produced. 
She  has  a  sister  and  an  aunt." 

"I  see — two  peaches  and  a  persimmon.  Excuse  the 
pomological  vulgarity.     Where  do  we  get  our  dinner?" 

"If  you  don't  mind,  I  will  get  you  up  something  here 
when  Corn  comes  back.  He  manages  to  keep  me  pretty 
well  supplied.  As  I  was  saying,  the  mortgagor,  who  is 
trying  to  get  the  interest  out  of  the  place,  hasn't  resolu- 
tion enough  to  face  these  women,  foreclose  and  set  them 
on  the  highway,  so  he  gets  an  order  of  the  court  to  put 
in  a  superintendent  who  is  thick  skinned  enough  to  carry 
out  the  trivial  and  hard-hearted  details  of  the  situation 
and  save  him  from  the  withering  vengeance  of  the  three 
graces.  Why,  I  have  felt  like  a  malignant  miscreant 
ever  since  I  have  been  here.  They  slammed  the  door 
in  my  face,  regard  me  as  a  ruthless  devastator  and 
appeal  to  their  ancestors  to  smite  me  into  the  earth. 
It's  quite  a  novel  sensation  to  be  impaled  with  the  scorn 
and  contempt  of  the  old  regime.  Suppose  you  come 
inside  and  I'll  see  what  there  is  for  lunch." 

As  they  entered  the  hut,  John  continued:  "There's 
one  comfort — none  of  them  will  come  here  to  freeze  up 
our  blood.  I  am  just  over  their  line  on  a  strip  of  the 
Judge's  property.  I'll  move  these  papers  ofE  the  table 
and  forage.  You  can  go  on  and  tell  me  what  it  is  that 
weighs  on  your  mind.  Any  one  can  see  it's  heavy  by 
your  downcast  looks." 

"By  Jove,  it's  a  rescue,"  said  Tony,  as  he  seated  him- 


90  THE  CONQUERING  OF  KATE 

self  in  the  chair  which  John  had  brought  in.  "I  am 
heaven-sent  to  deHver  you  from  this  withering  nonsense. 
I  am  going  to  Cuba  and  you  have  to  go  with  me." 

"Do  I?"  exclaimed  John,  who  was  taking  out  the 
thumb-tacks.     "On  what  compulsion  do  I  ?" 

Tony  beamed  at  him  with  a  sufficient  answer.  "See 
here,  old  chap,  it's  the  Wittemburg  affair  over  again, 
only  this  time  the  pocketbook  is  in  the  other  fellow's 
hands.  I  depend  on  you.  Don't  go  off  into  a  lot  of 
independent  frills  of  superfluous  self-respect.  This 
is  not  benevolence — it  is  business.  I  don't  want  you 
to  remember  me,  but  discover  me.  I've  changed 
my  spots.  I'm  a  practical  man — yes,  I  am — it's  been 
pounded  into  me.  I  should  think  you  could  see  it  in 
my  face,"  and  then  he  beamed. 

"It's  the  last  place  I  should  look  for  it,"  said  John. 
"Your  glowing  mug  is  like  a  flagon  of  that  Moselle  wine 
we  drank  at  Lubeck." 

"Bubbles,  eh?  That's  where  you  make  a  mistake. 
I've  blown  them  all  off.  You  behold  only  the  dregs  of 
a  wasted  life." 

And  Tony's  blue  eyes  opened  wide,  a  comfortable 
joyousness  spread  over  his  face,  and  his  white  teeth 
gleamed  under  his  blond  mustache. 

"But  it  isn't  too  late,  my  boy,"  he  continued,  "to 
redeem  the  past,  with  practical  labour  and  intense 
application.  One  must  strive  and  suffer  a  bit  to  secure 
the  highest  rewards  of  life.  You  never  suffered  any, 
Jack." 

"Oh,  yes  I  have.  You  used  to  take  me  five  and  six 
blocks  out  of  my  way  to  avoid  your  creditors,  and  you 
nearly  talked  me  to  death  on  the  advantages  of  thrift 
and  economy.  " 

"Yes,  old  Griscom  used  to  tell  us  at  school — you 


RENEWED  CHUMSHIP  91 

remember  snuffy  Griscom — he  used  to  tell  us  that  life 
needs  a  pursuit.  That  may  do  for  tailors  and  boot- 
makers, but  do  you  know  I  think  it  needs  a  pursuer  to 
have  any  zest.  After  I  paid  those  fellows  off  it  became 
a  kind  of  aching  void.  There  isn't  much  worth  living  for 
when  a  man  can  take  a  straight  Une  to  a  given  point. 
Among  the  assets  of  my  mother's  estate  was  a  sugar 
plantation  in  western  Cuba.  Jack,  have  you  any 
idea  what  the  profits  are  on  a  crop  of  sugar?" 

"No,"  said  John  indifferently.  He  was  giving  instruc- 
tions to  Com,  who  had  just  come  in.  "Go  on,"  he  said  to 
his  friend,  "  and  tell  me  all  about  it." 

"But  I  can't  if  you  don't  get  up  an  interest  in  it." 

"My  dear  fellow,  I  am  devouring  it;  but  you  will 
want  to  devour  something  else  presently.  We  have 
some  hot  potatoes  in  the  ashes  in  the  kitchen — a  cold 
chicken  and  a  bottle  of  Bass,  with  a  fresh  loaf  and 
fresh  butter.  Do  you  think  we  can  sufficiently  munch 
on  that?" 

"If  the  ale  is  cold  and  the  butter  is  fresh  I  think  we 
can  tide  over.  Now,  give  me  yoiu"  serious  attention. 
This  is  vital.  I  don't  suppose  any  of  the  withered 
guardians  will  intrude  on  us  here.  I  don't  want  to  put 
on  my  coat." 

"Withered?"  said  John.  "You  mistook  me:  I  said 
withering.  There's  some  difference.  I  spoke  of  the 
heiress  as  repulsive  in  manners,  not  in  looks.  Return 
to  Cuba." 

"I  stopped  over  there  on  my  way  back  from  Brazil 
and  took  a  look  at  my  estate.  Have  you  ever  examined 
into  the  revenues  of  coffee-raising?  Of  course  you 
haven't.  You  wouldn't  wear  that  look  of  indifference 
if  you  had.  There's  eight  hundred  acres  of  superb  land 
running  down  to  a  simny  cove,  with  a  mile  of  white  beach 


92  THE  CONQUERING  OF  KATE 

and  a  lagoon  shut  in  by  a  coral  reef.  There's  a  stone 
hacienda,  one  of  those  hurricane  houses  that  hug  the 
earth  like  an  alligator — all  verandas  and  jalousies  and 
balconies,  with  anaconda  vines  twisted  all  over  it." 

"What's  the  condition  of  the  plantation?"  asked 
John. 

"Bad  beyond  expression.  Needs  a  puller-up.  Been 
harried  by  the  insurgents  and  stripped  by  the  Govern- 
ment. " 

"I'm  afraid  you've  come  to  the  wrong  man,"  said 
John.     "I'm  not  a  capitalist." 

"If  you  had  been  I  would  have  avoided  you.  One 
capitalist  in  the  firm  is  enough.  Jack,  I  met  General 
Jordan  down  there — he  is  an  American  and  is  fighting 
with  the  insurgents.  He  convinced  me  that  sooner  or 
later  the  island  will  belong  to  the  United  States,  and  the 
smart  fellow  is  he  who  gets  in  now  on  the  ground  plan. 
Coming  back  on  the  steamer  to  New  York,  I  dreamed, 
between  the  spasms  of  sea-sickness,  of  orange  trees 
holding  out  their  palms  with  cool  fruit  in  them  for  my 
breakfast;  and  black  eyes  with  tropical  dreams  in  them 
languishing  amid  cocoanut  trees ;  of  a  sunlit  archipelago 
with  a  steam  yacht  riding  on  a  blue  expanse,  and  the 
coral  reefs  showing  their  white  teeth  at  low  tide,  senti- 
neled by  the  jolly  flamingoes  like  so  many  grenadiers. 
I  pictured  myself  in  a  hammock  leisurely  picking  off 
bushwhackers  with  a  silver-mounted  rifle,  when  I  was  not 
loading  my  sugar  on  argosies  bound  for  Tampa  and 
Savannah.  'By  the  star  of  destiny,'  I  said,  'it  only 
needs  a  supplementary  mind — a  damned  methodical, 
scientific,  executive,  matter-of-fact  plodder — to  turn  this 
dream  into  a  tropical  reality.  Where  the  devil  is  my 
old  chum.  Jack  Burt?'  Look  here,  old  fellow,  things 
happen  almost  supernaturally  sometimes,  whether  you 


RENEWED  CHUMSHIP  93 

are  in  Wittemburg  or  Chambersburg.  *  Presto ! '  says 
Chance.  *  Here  he  is — seize  him  ! '  Just  when  you  least 
expect  it,  something  flutters  out  of  a  clear  void  with  a 
message,  and  there  you  are." 

John  Burt,  who  had  been  bustling  around  in  search 
of  supplies,  came  and  put  his  hand  on  Tony's  shoulder. 
He  was  influenced  by  two  unlike  impulses — one  of  old- 
time  disbelief  in  the  staying  power  of  Tony's  enthusiasm, 
and  the  other  a  natural  and  irresistible  admiration  of 
his  friend's  generous  nature.  He  was  just  about  to 
make  some  kind  of  pleasant  and  evasive  answer,  when 
there  came  a  little  rat-a-tat-tat  at  the  door.  It  sounded 
so  much  like  a  woodpecker's  bill  that  both  men  listened, 
but  when  it  was  repeated  John  strode  to  the  door 
without  waiting  for  his  servant,  and  having  thrown  it 
open,  was  confronted,  somewhat  to  his  astonishment, 
by  Miss  Sylvia  Bussey,  dressed  in  a  tissuey  monsseline  de 
laine  and  a  flaming  Garibaldi,  with  a  little  chip  hat 
cocked  on  the  back  of  her  head,  and  looking  altogether 
very  crisp  and  pretty  and  somewhat  frightened  at  her 
own  audacity. 

"Can  I  speak  to  you  a  moment?"  she  said  gently,  and 
as  she  stepped  backward  as  she  said  it  John  Burt  had 
to  go  out  to  her. 

"  Miss  Bussey, "  I  believe. 

"Yes,  I  am  Miss  Kate  Bussey 's  sister" — still  backing 
away. 

"Is  there  anything  I  can  do  for  you.  Miss 
Bussey?" 

"Yes.  I  wanted  to  ask  you  a  question  to  your  face. 
Do  you  intend  to  plow  up  the  terraces  and  cut  down 
the  old  trees?" 

"No,  Miss  Bussey.  Such  an  idea  never  entered  my 
head." 


94  THE  CONQUERING  OF  KATE 

"I  didn't  believe  it  did,  so  I  wanted  to  ask  you 
plainly." 

"  Is  there  any  other  information  that  I  can  give  you?" 

"I  hope  you'll  excuse  me,  but  I  wanted  to  see  if  you 
had  a  newspaper. " 

"A  newspaper,"  he  repeated  after  her.  "I  have  a 
copy  of  the  New  York  Herald,  but  it  is  three  days  old. 
Did  you  wish  to  borrow  it?" 

"Oh,  no;  I  only  wanted  to  look  it  over.     May  I?" 

"Will  you  not  step  inside  and  sit  down?  I  will  get  it 
for  you. 

"No,  I  thank  you.  If  you  would  just  let  me  see  it, 
please." 

During  this  brief  colloquy  she  had  furtively  glanced  at 
Burt  and  appeared  to  be  considering  how  much  more 
harmless  he  was  than  her  fears  had  painted  him.  By 
the  time  he  had  returned  with  a  badly  crumpled  news- 
paper in  his  hand  she  had  evidently  made  up  her  mind 
that  he  was  altogether  too  affable  for  a  devastator,  for 
she  gave  him  a  timid  little  smile  as  she  took  the 
paper,  and  hoped  that  she  wasn't  putting  him  to  any 
trouble. 

"You  are  honouring  me,"  said  John  Burt  gallantly, 
"by  allowing  me  to  be  of  some  service  to  you.  But  I 
cannot  permit  you  to  stand  out  here  and  read  the  paper. 
Perhaps  if  you  are  in  search  of  any  particular  news  I 
might  assist  you." 

She  hesitated  a  moment.  If  there  had  been  an 
accident  at  sea  he  would  be  likely  to  know  of  it  and  she 
might  not  learn  an5rthing  from  one  newspaper.  Had 
John  Burt  known  that  Innocence  was  framing  a  little 
white  lie  he  would  not  have  admired  it  the  less,  such  is 
the  vanishing  point  of  ethics  in  beauty. 

"I  wanted  to  find  out,"  she  said    hesitatingly,  "if  a 


RENEWED  CHUMSHIP         -  95 

steamship  had  been  lost  at  sea.  I  had  a  friend  coming 
from  England  and  we  have  not  heard  a  word. " 

"When  did  yoxir  friend  sail?" 

"He  must  have  sailed  in  June. " 

"And  this,"  said  John  Burt,  "is  the  twentieth  of 
July." 

"  You  see,  we  are  so  shut  off  from  the  world  that  we  do 
not  get  the  newspapers." 

"I  have  not  heard  of  any  disaster  at  sea 
since  the  loss  of  the  Oceanica,"  said  John  Burt. 
"Let  me  see — that  was  in  Jime.  Of  course  you  knew 
about  that." 

"Then  there  was  a  steamship  lost  at  sea?"  said 
Sylvia,  with  what  John  Burt  thought  was  something 
like  a  glad  surprise. 

"Yes,"  he  replied,  thinking  to  add  to  her  apparent 
enjoyment  of  that  sort  of  thing.  "But  there  may  have 
been  others,  you  know.  I  haven't  kept  run  of  the 
papers.  I'll  ask  my  friend — he's  fresh  from  New  York. 
Perhaps  I  can  find  some  earlier  papers.  Pardon  me  a 
moment." 

Sylvia  had  seen  a  blond  head  bobbing  slowly  about 
at  the  window,  and  had  heard  voices  in  the  cabin,  all  of 
which  had  given  rise  to  a  feeling  that  perhaps  she  might 
have  come  upon  a  nest  of  overseers.  She  was  fingering 
the  rumpled  paper  nervously,  standing  in  solitary 
picturesqueness  and  looking,  from  the  window,  in  her 
airy  and  fluttering  grace,  as  if  a  petunia  had  suddenly 
come  up  there  under  the  tulip  tree.  Presently  John 
Burt  returned  with  his  friend,  who  had  got  himself  into 
his  shoes  and  coat  with  what  for  him  was  marvelous 
celerity,  and  Corn  brought  a  camp-stool  out  for  the 
young  lady. 

"My  friend,   Mr.   Tony   Brahm,   Miss   Bussey.    She 


96  THE  CONQUERING  OF  KATE 

wishes  to  learn  something  about  the  loss  of  the  Oceanica. 
We  do  not  get  the  news  promptly  down  here." 

Sylvia  glanced  at  the  three  men  she  had  evoked. 
They  were  rather  formidable  in  their  masculinity  and 
politeness,  and  her  little  mission  dwindled  against  the 
prospect.     She  looked  a  little  scared. 

"Oh,"  she  said,  "I  didn't  mean  to  put  you  all  to  so 
much  trouble.  I'll  run  back  if  you'll  let  me  keep  this 
paper  !"  and  she  made  a  little  start. 

"I  don't  think  you  will  find  what  you  want  in  that 
paper,"  said  John  Burt;  "the  news  is  pretty  old  by  this 
time." 

"The  Oceanica  ran  into  a  collier  off  the  Needles  in  a 
fog,"  said  Tony,  beaming  handsomely  with  his  infor- 
mation. 

"Yes,"  said  Sylvia  with  a  little  gasp;  "she  sprang 
aleak — I  knew  it." 

"I  don't  remember  the  particulars,"  said  Tony  with 
his  very  best  smile.  "I  think  pretty  much  everybody 
was  lost  except  the  cook  and  the  purser.  You  want  the 
list  of  passengers,  of  course," 

"Yes,  if  you  please,"  said  Sylvia,  with  a  grateful 
expression,  as  if  she  expected  him  to  pull  the  list  from 
his  breast  bocket. 

"Why,  then,  you  know,  you  write  to  the  steamship 
company." 

"Thank  you,"  said  Sylvia,  making  a  motion  as  if  to 
fly.     "Of  course.     I  should  have  thought  of  that." 

"What  was  the  date  of  the  disaster?"  asked  John 
Burt. 

Tony  pulled  his  blond  mustache.  "Let  me  see — 
I  heard  the  news  in  the  Racquet  Club.  Valentine  was 
there,  and  he  was  killed  on  the  twentieth.  It  must  have 
been  before  that. 


RENEWED  CHUMSHIP  97 

"Wait  a  moment,"  said  John  Burt.  "Perhaps  I  can 
find  an  older  paper.     I'll  rummage." 

Then  he  disappeared  into  the  cabin,  and  Mr.  Tony 
Brahm,  placing  the  camp-stool  in  a  more  inviting  spot, 
begged  the  young  lady  to  be  seated,  and,  there  being 
nothing  else  to  do,  she  sat  down. 

"Dreadful  thing  this — an  accident  at  sea,"  said  Tony. 

"It  must  be  awful,"  replied  Sylvia.  "Was  it  in  the 
night?" 

"Upon  my  word,  I  don't  recall  the  time.  I  just  looked 
at  the  list  of  the  lost.  There  was  nobody  I  knew,  and — 
by  the  way,  what  was  the  name  of  your  friend  ?  I  might 
recall  it  as  being  in  the  Ust  if  it  were  an  unusual  name." 

"Oh,  it  isn't  of  sufficient  importance  to  annoy  other 
people  with." 

"Isn't  it?"  asked  Tony  with  some  surprise,  and  won- 
dering to  himself  how  she  managed  to  keep  that  little 
hat  on  the  back  of  her  head  in  spite  of  her  constant 
motions. 

"He  was  ordy  an  acquaintance,"  said  Sylvia,  "  and — 
I  think  I'll  go  back  now." 

"Wait  a  moment.  Mr.  Burt  may  find  the  list,  you 
know.  What  a  beautiful  domain  you  have  here.  Miss 
Bussey." 

"Yes,"  said  Sylvia  indifferently,  that  being  an  old 
story.  "I  suppose  the  poor  passengers  had  to  work  the 
pumps." 

"Why,  no;  my  impression  is  they  were  spared  that 
lingering  agony.  Her  bulkheads  were  stove  and  she 
went  down  head  first." 

"Gracious!  Isn't  it  dreadful!"  said  Sylvia,  her  eyes 
sparkling  and  her  fingers  fumbling  the  paper  as  if  she 
were  anxious  to  get  at  the  sickening  details. 

"  What  a  morbid  Httle  wretch,"  thought  Tony  Brahm. 


98  THE  CONQUERING  OF  KATE 

"Jack,"  he  cried,  "what  are  you  doing?  You  are  leav- 
ing Miss  Bussey  in  suspense." 

"Come  here  a  moment,"  called  John.  And  with  that 
Tony  made  a  bow,  asking  her  not  to  run  away,  and  went 
in  to  his  friend. 

"See  here,"  said  John,  "there's  an  old  Herald  on  this 
pantry  shelf.     Help  me  get  these  cans  off." 

In  their  hurry  one  of  them  dropped  a  glass 
jar  of  cranberry  jelly,  adding  to  the  clatter 
and  stickiness  of  the  occasion,  and  when  they 
pulled  the  paper  out  it  was  somewhat  smeared. 
But  John  Burt  folded  it  as  well  as  he  could 
with  the  smear  inside  and  presented  it  to  the  young 
lady,  with  the  remark  that  it  might  contain  something 
about  the  disaster,  and  as  she  thanked  him  and 
turned  to  go  he  said:  "Let  me  accompany  you  to  the 
river  path;  there  are  several  strange  workmen  about." 
She  protested,  but  he  insisted  and  walked  beside  her 
down  the  slope,  Tony  looking  after  them  and  pulling  his 
blond  mustache  thoughtfully. 

"It  is  not  at  all  necessary  for  you  to  come,"  said 
Sylvia.     "I  know  the  way  better  than  you  do." 

"But  you  might  think  of  some  more  questions  you 
would  like  to  ask  me." 

"I  am  sure  I  should  think  of  them  better  if  you  would 
go  back." 

"But  I  couldn't  answer  them." 

Just  then  one  burning  question  did  occur  to  her. 
"Is  he  another  overseer?"  she  asked. 

"He  is  a  friend  of  mine  who  has  come  from  New  York 
to  pay  me  a  visit  for  a  day  or  two.  Isn't  there  some- 
thing else?" 

"No,  not  now.     Please  don't  come  any  farther." 

Then  he  bowed  and  she  left  him,  going  hurriedly  along 


RENEWED  CHUMSHIP  99 

the  river  path  and  thinking  it  all  over  in  a  tumultuous 
way. 

"Dear  me,"  she  said  to  herself,  "poor  Mr.  Joumingham 
may  have  had  to  work  the  pumps  till  he  fell  exhausted 
— poor  man,  and  he  was  hurrying  to  his  wedding." 

As  for  John  Burt,  he  went  springily  back  and  was 
accosted  by  Tony  in  a  beamingly  reproachful  manner. 

"You  have  my  heartfelt  commiseration,  old  chap," 
he  said.  "I  was  watching  her  through  the  window  and 
saw  her  appealing  to  her  ancestors  to  smite  you  into  the 
earth." 

"Oh,  she's  only  a  study,"  replied  John.  "Wait  till 
you  see  the  other  one.  The  other  is  the  completed 
picture.  You  see  the  bitterness  and  odium  isn't  equally 
distributed  in  the  family.  Didn't  she  put  you  in  mind 
of  one  of  Vemet's  nymphs,  standing  there  under  the 
tree  in  her  red  Garibaldi?" 

"Well,"  replied  Tony  Brahm  reflectively,  "it  occurred 
to  me  as  I  saw  her  from  the  window  that  she  was  more 
like  a  danger  signal.  Suppose  we  get  that  lunch  now, 
and  I'll  resume  the  Cuban  narrative." 


CHAPTER  VII 
The  Judge  also  Dances  a  Minuet 

"Yes,"  said  Sylvia,  as  she  listened  to  herself  a  day- 
later.  "Mr.  Journingham  is  no  more,  and  it  is  my 
Christian  duty  not  to  be  glad.  I'll  try  hard,  and  there 
is  Miss  Haggerty  up  in  the  blue  room  making  over  all 
those  things.  It  may  not  be  sad,  but  it's  perfectly 
awful. 

She  did  not  tell  the  household  that  she  had  made  a 
visit  to  the  overseer.  She  only  gave  out  the  news  of 
the  Oceanica  and  watched  her  sister  closely. 

"We  shall  know  with  certainty  in  a  day  or  two,"  said 
Aunt  Sussex,  after  they  had  brooded  over  the  informa- 
tion. "I  have  written  to  the  steamship  company  and 
to  Cousin  Ralph  Toland  and  Major  Goldborough.  We 
have  no  information  of  any  disaster  and  oiust  not  give 
way  to  idle  apprehensions." 

Kate  said  very  little,  and  was  inclined  to  run  away 
from  all  considerations  of  the  subject.  It  was  an 
inviting  morning  and  she  asked  her  sister  to  go  with  her 
to  see  Unc'l  Dan'l.  But  Sylvia  expected  Penelly,  and 
so  Miss  Kate  set  out,  chiefly  desirous  of  escaping  into 
the  calm  assurance  of  the  objective  world.  Neverthe- 
less, she  took  Pierson  with  her.  With  his  help  she  found 
the  cabin  into  which  the  old  servant  had  been  moved. 
It  stood  not  far  to  the  north  of  the  Bass  wood  Spring,  in 
the  sunshine  of  the  southern  slope,  shielded  but  hardly 
shadowed  by  the  old  oaks.      Unc'l  Dan'l  himself,  an 

ICO 


THE  JUDGE  ALSO  DANCES  A  MINUET    loi 

aged  negro  with  white  hair  circling  his  bald  head  and 
fringing  his  face,  somewhat  crumpled  in  body,  was 
sitting  in  an  old  Quaker  rocker  outside  the  door. 

"Well,  Uncle,"  said  Miss  Kate,  "so  they  moved  you 
in  spite  of  all  I  could  say." 

"  Bress  de  Lo'd,  honey,  youse  like  an  answer  to  pray'r. 
I  sniff  you  comin'  like  de  spring  lilarks." 

"Had  I  known  that  my  orders  were  to  be  treated 
with  contempt,  I  would  not  have  left  you  alone,"  she 
said.  "I  suppose  it  has  thrown  you  back  again. 
How's  your  rheumatism?" 

Unc'l  Dan'l  put  his  hands  on  the  side  of  the  rocker 
and  tried  to  lift  himself  up.  She  gently  pressed  him 
back  again.  "Sit  still,"  she  said.  "It's  a  great  out- 
rage." 

"No,  Miss  Kate,  'sail  for  de  bes,  suah." 

"Whether  it  is  for  the  best  or  not,  I  forbade  it.  I 
used  to  have  some  authority — at  least,  with  you." 

"No,  Miss  Kate,  de  bose  he  was  a-doin'  de  Lo'd's 
will.  He  doan'  say  nuffin  'bout  hisself  nohow.  Lissen 
to  me.  Miss  Kate.  He  done  gone  tote  de  ole  cabin  out 
de  buckwheat  fiel'  for  de  missus.  '  Hyar,  you  ole  man, ' 
he  says,  '  what  you  sot  down  here  in  de  mud  for,  wen  de 
missus  want  you  to  git  well  ?  How  you  goin'  to  git  well 
in  dis  hyar  wet  and  dis  yar  eas'  win*  a-whistlin'  in  you 
ole  bones?  Doan  you  know  you  missus  tryin'  to 
doctor  you  up,  you  ole  fool  nigger  ?  She  can't  move  you 
outen  dis  yere  wet  wid  her  white  ban's,  kin  she  ?'  '  Bress 
de  Lo'd,  Bose,'  I  tole  him, '  I'm  ready  to  go  whenever 
Gabriel  toots  his  horn.  Dis  yar's  good  nuff  place  for 
an  ole  nigger  like  me  to  go  from.'  'See  hyar,'  says  de 
bose,  'de  trumps  a-soundin'  now,  and  I'm  de  Angel 
Gabriel,  and  you  just  sot  yourself  down  thar  in  my 
cabin  and  I  hist  dis  yar  ole  pen  out  de  mud  an'  tote  you 


I02  THE  CONQUERING  OF  KATE 

up  on  a  rock,  ole  man,  and  turn  de  sun  on  yer,  den  yer 
wont  want  ter  go  so  bad.  A  good  nigger's  home  ought 
to  be  founded  on  a  rock,  and  not  sot  down  hyar  in  a 
drain.'  " 

Kate  was  Hstening  to  him  in  what  might  be  called  a 
disdainful  reverie.  She  called  to  Pierson,  who  stood 
some  distance  away,  to  bring  her  something  to  sit  on, 
from  the  cabin,  and  he  brought  out  a  rickety  old  carpet- 
covered  bench,  giving  it  one  or  two  wipes  with  his  coat- 
sleeve.  When  she  sat  down,  Unc'l  Dan'l,  noting  her 
incredulity,  went  on: 

"  Suah,  honey,  juss  what  I  tole  yer.  He  tote  de  whole 
cabin  up  hyar  in  one  day.  '  Lookout  dar,  you  niggers,' 
he  says.  'If  you  bust  one  bo'd  yer  missus  skin  yer. 
Doan  yer  lose  a  stone — yer  missus  count  'em.  Yer 
good  fer  nothin'  lazy  niggers,  I'll  make  yer  work  if  yer 
earn  yer  hoe-cake.*  *  Bress  de  Lo'd,'  says  I, '  it  do  sound 
like  Colonel  John  come  back  agin.'  " 

Miss  Kate  was  looking  dreamily  into  the  trees  down 
the  slope  where  the  river  flashed  itself  through  in  silver 
patches.  The  old  man  paused  a  moment,  and  seeing 
that  his  strain  was  listened  to  thoughtfully,  took  it  up 
again : 

"Suah  as  yer  live.  Miss  Kate.  'Iclar  out  all  you 
niggers,'  says  de  bose,  'if  you  doan  earn  yer  salt.  What 
yer  think  dis  yar  place  good  fer,  heh !  Jess  co's  yer 
missus  got  no  man  to  look  arter  it,  yer  skin  de  river  an' 
steal  de  game  an'  bum  up  de  trees.  Mebbe  yer 
missus  git  a  man  to  fire  yer  black  rascals  all  outen. 
Look  hyar,  ole  man,'  he  says  to  Unc'l  Dan'l,  'yer  jess 
squat  over  dar  in  de  sun  and  smell  de  grass  and  git  dis 
yar  fulgence  in  yo  ole  bones  and  bress  de  missus.'  It's 
de  Lo'd's  trufe." 

"I  am  glad.  Uncle,"  said  Miss  Kate,  "if  the  change 


THE  JUDGE  ALSO  DANCES  A  MINUET    103 

has  improved  you,  but  you  never  complained  to  me  of 
the  other  locality." 

"No,  Miss  Kate,  I  didn't  'plain  to  de  bose." 

"Don't  you  think  that  I  should  have  been  consulted 
about  it?" 

"Bress  yer  heart,  honey,  nobody  evil-minded  'nuff 
to  worry  de  missus  when  she  dun  got  her  own 
worries." 

"  I  am  glad  that  you  have  friends  who  are  both  willing 
and  able  to  assist  you." 

"I  ain't  got  no  fren  would  do  it,  chile,  if  de  missus 
didn't  want  it.  Youse  my  bess  fren,  Miss  Kate,  nex' 
to  de  Lo'd,  and  I  reckon  de  bose  find  it  out." 

"But  he  is  not  my  boss,  Unc'l.  I  did  not  ask  him 
to  come  here." 

"Suah's  y'  liv',  de  Lo'd  sent  him.  De  Lo'd  know 
what  dis  yar  place  wants  bettem  we  poor  sinners  can 
tole  Him." 

She  jumped  up.  "You  sit  still,  Unc'l,"  she  said. 
"I'll  take  a  look,"  and  with  that  she  entered  the  cabin 
and  surveyed  it  closely.  "You  seem  to  have  all  yotu- 
old  things  about  you,"  she  said,  coming  back  to  the  door, 
"and  I  suppose  you  will  be  comfortable.  Where's  my 
picture  that  you  had  on  the  waU?" 

"In  de  Bible,  honey.  De  bose  says:  'Don'  yer  nail 
de  pictur  on  de  wall,  ole  man,  for  all  de  fool  niggers  to 
grin  at.     Keep  de  keerd  in  de  Bible  out  de  light.'!' 

"Are  you  sure  you  have  it?"  she  asked,  and  going 
back  into  the  room  she  turned  the  leaves  of  Unc'l 
Dan'l's  well-thumbed  Bible,  as  if  suspecting  some  one 
of  felonious  intent. 

But  it  was  there  innocently  enough.  She  shut  the 
book  and  came  back  to  Unc'l  Dan'l  and  stood  there  a 
moment  thinking.     He  had  never  outgrown  the  habit 


I04  THE  CONQUERING  OF  KATE 

of  addressing  her  as  he  had  been  permitted  to  do  when 
she  was  a  childish  protegd  of  his. 

"Honey,"  he  said,  "you  jes  sot  yesself  down  and  tell 
yer  Unc'l  what's  on  yer  mine." 

.  She  was  thinking  at  that  moment  that  she  might  have 
done  the  overseer  some  injustice.  It  was  quite  within 
her  privilege  to  thank  him  for  what  he  had  done  and 
then  let  him  go  away.  So  she  sent  Pierson  over  to  the 
stone  hut  to  hunt  him  up,  and  then  it  was  that  Unc'l 
Dan'l  said: 

"De  bose  dun  gone." 

"Gone?" 

"Suah.  Rode  away  dis  yer  momin'.  *Good-by, 
ole  man,'  he  says;  'I'se  goin'  down  to  de  Line  to  see  de 
country.  Keep  yer  ole  heart  up  and  git  well  for  yer 
missus.'  " 

While  Miss  Kate  had  been  sitting  there  talking  with 
the  old  man,  Judge  Heckshent  had  Arrived  home  from 
Chambers,  after  a  two  weeks'  absence.  He  was  suffering 
from  a  severe  cold  and  looked  infirm  and  weary  as  he 
entered  his  home.  His  wife  attended  to  his  physical 
wants  with  the  mechanical  docility  of  a  servant,  but  as 
soon  as  he  was  in  his  slippers,  and  comfortable,  she  began 
with  her  tongue.  You  may  believe  that  in  very  short 
order  she  both  wounded  and  astonished  him.  She  told 
him  that  the  Busseys  had  been  hoodwinking  him,  letting 
him  put  in  crops  and  improve  the  place  only  to  get  the 
benefit  of  his  labour.  Kate  Bussey  was  about  to  be 
married  and  he  would  never  have  known  of  it  until  the 
act  was  accomplished  if  his  lawful  wife  had  not  gone  up 
there  herself  and  found  it  out.  So  much  for  lawyer 
smartness.  "You've  been  a-churnin'  for  years,"  she 
said,  "and  it  turns  out  to  be  brook-water  at  last.  I 
could  have  told  you." 


THE  JUDGE  ALSO  DANCES  A  MINUET    105 

It  hurt  Wm  a  little  to  think  that  Kate  Bussey  did  not 
inform  him  of  such  a  step.  He  was  entitled  to  her  con- 
fidence at  least  in  any  matter  pertaining  to  the  estate. 
His  wife  had  acquired  the  art  of  hurting  him,  and  after 
writhing  awhile  he  got  up,  tired  as  he  was,  and  put  on 
his  boots  to  go  up  and  call  on  Kate  Bussey.  He  was 
anxious  to  know  what  his  indiscreet  wife  had  said  and 
done.  He  toiled  slowly  up  the  wood  road  to  the  house, 
and  when  he  reached  the  porch  and  was  coughing  a 
little  from  the  exertion,  Kate,  who  was  coming  back 
from  the  interview  with  Unc'l  Dan'l,  came  upon  him 
there  at  the  steps  breathing  heavily.  She  looked  at 
his  worn  face,  and  perceiving  his  distress,  sank  in  an 
instant  every  feeling  but  one  of  pity,  and  holding  out  her 
hand,  she  said  impulsively: 

"Why,  Uncle  Caleb,  you  are  sick." 

"I  have  a  bad  cold,  that's  all,  my  child.  I  thought 
I'd  walk  over  and  see  how  you  are  all  getting  along." 

"So  good  of  you,"  she  exclaimed,  catching  hold  of 
his  arm.  "Come  right  in  and  let  me  get  you  some- 
thing to  stop  that  cough.  Aunt  will  be  delighted  to  see 
you  once  more." 

She  led  him  in,  and  with  a  woman's  tact,  instead  of 
going  into  the  grim  parlour,  took  him  round  to  the  more 
comfortable  family  room,  where  the  meals  were  usually 
served,  and  then  calUng  up  the  stairs  to  her  aunt  and 
sister,  she  went  into  the  kitchen  and  began  hunting  in 
the  store-closet  for  a  bottle  conserved  somewhere  and 
containing  about  a  pint  of  the  grandmother's  Madeira. 
"When  at  last  she,  with  Leesha's  assistance,  had  found 
it,  she  stood  a  moment  with  it  in  her  hand,  giving  way 
to  an  entirely  new  thought  that  had  flashed  upon  her 
from  that  careworn  face.  What  if  Uncle  Caleb  should 
die!     They    had    never    thought    of    that.     And    then 


io6  THE  CONQUERING  OF  KATE 

out  of  the  incredible  swiftness  of  her  thought  there 
seemed  to  gleam  again  that  evil  eye  of  Mrs.  Heckshent. 

There  was  considerable  restraint  and  some  formality 
in  the  meeting  of  Aunt  Sussex  and  the  Judge,  and  if  it 
had  not  been  for  Miss  Kate  they  would  undoubtedly 
have  fallen  foul  of  each  other  in  the  quaintest  and  most 
decorous  manner.  She  came  in  while  her  aunt  was 
courtesying  and  the  Judge  was  bowing  with  his  hand 
on  his  breast  in  true  ancient  dignity,  and  she  brushed 
aside  the  rigour  of  affairs  by  saying: 

"Before  you  do  anything  else.  Uncle  Caleb,  take  a 
drink  of  this  wine.  It  is  some  of  Grandmother's  that 
is  left." 

And  she  filled  a  wine-glass.  The  Judge  took  it  and 
handed  it  to  Aunt  Sussex. 

"Permit  me,  madam.  I'll  take  a  swallow,  Miss 
Kate,  just  to  drink  your  healtl\s." 

Aunt  Sussex  did  not  decline  the  honour,  although  she 
looked  timidly  at  the  bottle  as  if  a  little  afraid  of  the 
strain  that  was  being  put  upon  it,  and  when  Kate  had 
poured  another  glass  the  Judge  took  it  and  said  with 
a  courtliness  which  he  no  doubt  had  learned  in  that 
very  room: 

"Your  very  good  health,  and  prosperity  to  the  house 
of  Bussey." 

Aunt  Sussex  touched  the  glass  with  her  lips  and  then 
placed  it  on  the  table,  feeling  that  she  had  complied 
strictly  with  the  demands  of  courtesy,  and  at  that 
point  the  interview  would  certainly  have  become  stalled 
in  its  stately  reserve  if  Miss  Sylvia  had  not  burst  in  upon 
it  with  her  youthful  effusiveness  and  rushed  upon  the 
old  gentleman,  holding  out  both  her  hands: 

"I  knew  you  would  come  and  see  us.  Uncle  Caleb,  if 
we  waited  long  enough,  and  we  have,  haven't  we?" 


THE  JUDGE  ALSO  DANCES  A  MINUET    107 

"Bless  my  soul,  Sylvia,"  replied  the  old  gentleman, 
beaming  upon  her  with  glad  surprise.  "Now  that  I  see 
you,  I  wonder  that  I  have  not  been  here  before."  Still 
holding  her  hand  and  turning  to  Aunt  Sussex,  he  said: 
"How  much  she  is  growing  like  her  cousin,  Rachel 
Bussey." 

"I  trust  that  she  is.  Judge,"  replied  Aunt  Sussex 
guardedly.  "Rachel  Bussey  would  have  been  an 
honour  to  the  family  had  she  lived." 

"And  so  will  our  Sylvia,  believe  me.  Dear  me,  how 
time  flies  away.  It  seems  but  yesterday,  my  child,  that 
I  carried  you  on  my  shoulder  and  led  Folingsby  by  the 
hand.     We  were  all  happy  children  then." 

"And  we  can  be  happy  yet.  Uncle.  Our  chances  are 
not  all  gone,  are  they  ? " 

" No,  no,  my  dear;  all  chances  wait  upon  youth. " 

Aunt  Sussex  creaked  a  little  as  if  the  preliminary 
amenities  had  gone  far  enough,  and  sat  down  with  an 
ominous  rustle,  whereupon  the  rest  of  the  group  took 
to  the  chairs  with  a  sudden  solemnity  and  Aunt  Sussex 
opened  the  proceedings  with  a  preliminary  cough: 

"I  was  going  to  write  to  you,  Judge,  and  inform  you 
of  the  arrangements  we  had  made, "  she  said. 

"Yes,"  replied  the  Judge,  "I  am  sorry  that  I  did  not 
hear  of  them  from  you. " 

"It  was  well  that  she  did  not,"  said  Kate.  "The 
arrangements  for  which  I  alone  am  responsible  were  not 
conclusive,  and  now  we  are  afraid  that  they  have  been 
interfered  with." 

"  Oh,  I  trust  not, "  said  the  Judge  with  genuine  dismay. 
"As  I  heard  the  arrangement  spoken  of,  it  seemed  to  me 
to  be  a  most  desirable  one  for  all  of  us,  and  I  need  not 
say  that  I  hoped  it  would  be  a  most  happy  one  for 
you." 


io8  THE  CONQUERING  OF  KATE 

"But,"  exclaimed  Sylvia,  "Mr,  Joumingham  has 
been  lost  at  sea." 

And  then,  feeling  that  her  directness  was  in  some  sort 
a  false  note  in  the  smooth  symphony  of  politeness,  up 
went  her  hand  to  her  mouth. 

"Bless  my  soul,  ladies,"  said  the  Judge,  "you  shock 
me.     Lost  at  sea,  did  you  say?" 

"There  is  no  proof  of  it  whatever,"  said  Aunt  Sussex. 
"We  are  only  apprehensive  that  he  was  on  the  Oceanica, 
for  we  have  not  heard  from  him. " 

"And  that, "  said  Kate,  "will  show  you  that  it  was  the 
uncertainty  which  prevented  us  from  letting  you  know. 
We  had  no  desire  to  conceal  anything." 

"Yes,  yes,  I  see,"  said  the  old  gentleman  with  ready 
forgiveness.  "Lost  at  sea — dear  me.  Have  you 
written  for  definite  information?" 

"Yes,"  replied  Aunt  Sussex.  "I  have  -of  course 
taken  every  means  to  be  informed  of  the  exact  facts,  and 
pending  that  information  we  think  that  we  are  entitled 
to  know  exactly  what  you  intend  to  do  with  regard  to 
the  property.  I  need  hardly  inform  you,  Judge,  that 
we  have  not  been  consulted  in  the  arrangements  you  are 
making." 

This  was  ticklish  ground  as  the  Judge  well  knew.  As 
the  representative  of  the  reserved  rights  of  the  Bussey 
family.  Aunt  Sussex  was  both  indomitable  and  invincible, 
and  after  many  previous  failures  the  Judge  hesitated  to 
confront  her  again  with  law  or  logic.  So  he  tried  to 
dodge  the  issue  and  turning  to  Sylvia,  said: 

"Pardon  me  a  moment,  ladies;  isn't  that  your  grand- 
mother's locket  that  you  have  on  your  neck,  Sylvia?" 

"Yes, "  said  Sylvia  promptly ;  " do  you  remember  it ? " 

"Indeed  I  do.  It  had  a  miniature  of  'Our  Harry'  on 
one  side  and  your  grandmother  had  her  own  miniature 


THE  JUDGE  ALSO  DANCES  A  MINUET    109 

put  in  on  the  other.  It  was  painted  by  Tom  Thorpe, 
but  it  never  did  her  justice.  I  wish  you  would  let  me 
look  at  it,  my  dear." 

Sylvia  jumped  up  and,  coming  familiarly  close  to  him, 
held  the  locket  in  front  of  his  face  with  one  hand  and 
leaned  on  his  shoulder  with  the  other.  Aunt  Sussex 
twiddled  her  fingers  on  the  table  with  guarded  impatience 
at  the  diversion  and  looked  with  significant  severity  at 
Kate,  very  much  as  if  she  meant  to  say,  "You  see  how 
this  weak  old  man  avoids  straightforward  decision  of 
character." 

But  Kate  herself  was  inclined  to  seize  any  diversion 
that  would  take  them  away  from  the  humiliating  sub- 
ject of  her  arrangement  with  Mr.  Joumingham,  and 
with  little  regard  for  her  aunt's  attitude  she  said : 

"Father  always  insisted  that  I  reminded  him  of  that 
picture,  but  that  was  a  long  time  ago. " 

"  I  wish  you  had  some  of  your  grandmother's  decision, 
my  dear,"  said  Aunt  Sussex.  "It  was  a  peculiar  trait 
of  hers  to  look  any  difficulty  straight  in  the  face. " 

The  Judge  covild  not  help  thinking  how  often  he  had 
heard  the  hope  expressed,  so  Hke  a  family  prophecy, 
that  Miss  Kate  was  to  perpetuate  with  her  womanhood 
all  the  vigorous  virtues  of  her  grandmother,  and  some- 
how the  handsome  face  in  front  of  him,  with  its  softer 
lines  and  more  mobile  expression,  full  blown  into 
womanhood  now,  reminded  him  more  of  her  father  than 
of  the  alert  and  commanding  grandmother. 

There  was  a  noble  portrait  of  that  grandmother 
hanging  on  the  wall  above  Miss  Sylvia,  who  was  sitting 
bolt  upright  in  her  chair  with  her  head  up  and  one  foot 
on  the  rung,  as  if  posed  for  any  sudden  irrelevancy  that 
might  offer,  and  a  question,  like  a  film,  passed  through 
his  mind,  if,  after   all,  the  coming  replica  of  the  grand- 


no  THE  CONQUERING  OF  KATE 

mother  might  not  be  perked  up  there  in  her  mousseline 
de  laine. 

"Dame  Bussey  passed  through  a  severe  school  of 
experience,"  said  the  Judge  emohently.  "I  remember 
very  well  the  day  she  received  this  locket.  It  was  just 
after  'Our  Harry's'  defeat  in  '44.  She  wrote  this 
inscription  herself  and  sent  me  with  the  locket  to  have 
it  engraved  on  the  back.  I  can  read  it,  my  dear,  without 
my  glasses,  for  it  was  engraved  on  my  memory  at  the 
same  time:  'Not  death,  much  less  defeat,  can  disturb  a 
woman's  fidelity.'" 

This  little  reminiscent  touch  was  for  a  moment  sup- 
pressive, but  only  for  a  moment. 

"Judge,"  said  Aunt  Sussex,  "now  that  we  have  an 
opportunity  to  talk  to  you  face  to  face,  we  ought  to  have 
a  clear  understanding.  As  I  was  saying,  we  should 
know  just  what  you  intend  to  do  with  the  property. " 

She  drummed  softly  on  the  table  with  her  mitted 
fingers,  and  there  was  the  slightest  palpitation  in  her 
pink  cheek,  but  her  resolution  in  spite  of  her  fragilit}'^ 
was  unmistakable.  The  Judge  glanced  appealingly  at 
the  sisters  as  if  they  might  have  spared  him  this,  and 
Aunt  Sussex  proceeded,  after  a  moment's  pause  which 
nobody  had  the  courage  to  break: 

"You  know,"  she  said,  "it  would  be  much  more 
satisfactory  to  us  to  understand  exactly  what  we  are 
to  expect,  should  we  have  to  suffer  this  loss  of  a  dear 
friend." 

"I  think,  my  dear  ladies, "said  the  Judge,  addressing 
himself  to  the  group  generally  as  a  precautionary 
measure,  "that  I  am  still  entitled  to  the  consideration 
due  to  a  friend  of  the  family — the  oldest  friend  of  the 
family,  I  may  say.  I  hope  that  nothing  has  occurred 
in  my  absence  to  impair  your  confidence  in  me." 


THE  JUDGE  ALSO  DANCES  A  MINUET    iii 

While  this  conversation  was  going  on,  Miss  Kate 
was  giving  way  to  an  entirely  new  sense  of  pity  for  the 
Judge.  Her  sensibilities  were  touched  by  the  gentle  air 
of  desolation  which  she  detected  in  his  tired  face,  nor 
could  she  help  thinking  of  that  other  face  which  had 
made  such  an  impression  on  her  in  the  parlour.  Do  her 
best,  she  could  not  recall  out  of  the  past  a  single  instance 
of  selfishness  or  severity  in  him.  She  forgot  Folingsby's 
vulgarity  and  Mrs.  Heckshent's  covert  threats,  and 
saw  only  a  sick  old  gentleman  whose  face  showed  that 
his  life  had  been  anything  but  a  pleasant  one  and  whose 
death  would  make  suddenly  and  finally  unavailing 
any  more  effort  to  save  the  estate.  Her  impulse  was 
to  dismiss  all  other  considerations  and,  with  womanly 
solicitude,  beg  him  to  take  care  of  himself.  She  saw 
with  a  quick  eye  that  his  clothing  was  no  longer  arranged 
with  the  scrupulous  tidiness  that  had  once  been  his 
marked  peculiarity.  There  were  evidences  of  neglect, 
and  his  speech  came  slowly  and  guardedly,  as  if  he  were 
somewhat  tired  of  it  all. 

But  Aunt  Sussex,  whose  eyes  were  not  so  good,  and 
whose  susceptibilities,  perhaps,  were  not  so  acute,  held 
on  her  course  of  dignified  arraignment. 

"Then,  of  course,"  she  said,  "it  is  my  disagreeable 
duty  to  inform  you  that  something  has  occurred,  and  it 
is  difficult  for  us  to  conceive  of  its  having  occurred  with- 
out your  permission.  While  we  were  doing  our  best  to 
meet  the  responsibilities  which  rest  upon  us,  a  stranger — 
a  rude  and  almost  overbearing  stranger — intruded  upon 
us  and  proceeded  to  make  the  place  untenantable,  even 
threatening  to  plow  up  the  lawns  and  cut  down  the 
timber." 

"Why,  he  never  did  anything  of  the  kind,"  exclaimed 
Sylvia. 


112  THE  CONQUERING  OF  KATE       , 

The  Judge  looked  at  the  young  lady  with  a  feeble 
gleam  of  satisfaction,  such  as  a  lawyer  would  show  who 
has  succeeded  in  confusing  the  witnesses. 

"There  isn't  a  word  of  truth  in  it,"  said  Sylvia.  "It 
was  just  a  wicked  lie." 

"I  hope  you  will  permit  me  to  form  my  own  con- 
clusions, young  woman,"  said  Aunt  Sussex.  "I  believe 
I  had  the  honour  of  talking  to  the  barefaced  person,  and 
a  man  who  had  so  little  regard  for  our  rights  and  my  feel- 
ings is  quite  capable  of  a  wicked  lie.  I  think  I  know 
men  better  than  you  do." 

Sylvia  was  for  a  moment  suppressed,  but  not  at  all 
obliterated.  She  tossed  her  head  and  held  herself 
in  reserve. 

The  Judge  addressed  himself  to  Kate  with  an  amiable 
disregard  of  Aunt  Sussex  that  must  have  wounded  that 
ancient  and  estimable  lady  grievously,  but  she  did 
not  permit  him  to  see  it. 

"My  dear  Kate,"  said  the  Judge,  twitching  his  neck 
from  the  folds  of  the  black  kerchief,  "I  am  afraid  that 
you  will  never  know  how  painful  it  is  to  me  to  be  con- 
tinually misunderstood  in  my  efforts  to  assist  you. 
Heaven  knows  I  have  never  been  able  to  escape  from 
the  promise  that  I  made  to  your  dying  father,  nor  have 
I  wished  to.     But  it  has  been  made  very  hard  for  me." 

Miss  Kate,  impelled  by  the  one  impulse  that  had  so 
suddenly  taken  possession  of  her,  gave  way  to  an  excla- 
mation of  reproach  as  she  jumped  up. 

"Uncle  Caleb  !"  she  exclaimed. 

He  waved  her  back  with  something  of  kindly  judicial 
dignity. 

"Pardon  me,  my  dear — listen  to  me  a  moment,  I 
beg  of  you." 

Aunt    Sussex   rapped   softly   and   nervously   on   the 


THE  JUDGE  ALSO  DANCES  A  MINUET    113 

table.  It  was  plain  to  her  that  the  lawyer  intended  to 
dodge  the  issue  she  presented  and  appeal  to  the  senti- 
ments of  her  nieces,  and  she  could  not  help  showing  her 
contempt  for  the  direction  the  conversation  had  taken; 
all  of  which  the  Judge  took  good  care  not  to  observe. 

"Do  you  think,"  she  asked,  "that  it  is  necessary, 
Judge,  to  muffle  the  blow  because  we  are  women?  We 
are  well  aware  that  you  are  a  creditor  and  that  the  law 
is  on  your  side." 

"Madam,"  said  the  Judge,  "I  addressed  myself  to  Miss 
Kate  because  she  has  my  promise  to  her  father  on  her 
side,  and  from  her  I  was  entitled  to  something  like 
sympathy  in  my  endeavours  to  keep  it.  When  Colonel 
John  borrowed  that  money  from  me,  neither  of  us  could 
foresee  what  would  happen.  If  I  had  it  to  do  over 
again  I  should  act  differently.  At  the  time  of  that 
transaction  there  was  an  unexpressed  beUef  both  on 
your  father's  and  on  my  side  that  the  family  interests 
in  time  would  be  one.  Although  that  is  now  an  impos- 
sibility (and  here  his  voice  wavered  a  little  in  spite  of 
him),  you  can  see  that  at  the  time  it  put  a  different 
face  on  the  matter.  But  we  need  not  speak  of  that. 
When  your  father  died,  Miss  Kate,  I  thought  the  best 
thing  would  be  to  sell  the  estate.  But  it  would  not  bring 
the  face  of  the  bond  at  that  time.  Nevertheless,  I 
felt  sure  that  with  the  restoration  of  peace  and  the  im- 
provement of  this  part  of  the  country  it  would  be  an 
attractive  domain  in  the  market,  and  that  it  ought  to  be 
kept  in  condition  for  your  sake  as  well  as  for  my  own. 
No  one  knew  better  than  myself  that,  with  your  gentle 
training,  you  were  not  the  one  to  lay  hold  of  the  difficult 
practical  problem,  and  I  must  confess  that  it  was  some- 
what out  of  my  line  also.  In  that  dilemma  I  sent  for 
a  practical  man,  a  trained,  wide-awake,  quick-headed 


114  THE  CONQUERING  OF  KATE 

expert,  and  I  put  the  case  before  him.  I  told  him  to 
make  a  study  of  it  and  tell  me  if  the  property  could  be 
put  into  shape  to  pay  the  interest  and  afford  a  com- 
fortable living  for  the  occupants.  He  surprised  me  by 
his  quick  grasp  of  the  difficulties,  and  he  assured  me  that 
with  a  moderate  expenditure  he  could  get  five  thousand 
a  year  out  of  it,  and  I  gave  him  clearly  to  understand 
that  I  wanted  to  save  the  place  to  you  before  I  died. 
They  train  these  men  differently  in  the  North.  In  a 
week  he  had  turned  over  every  stone.  *  Is  it  worth  the 
cost  ? '  I  asked  him.  '  Yes,'  he  said,  *  it's  the  finest  estate  I 
have  seen  in  Franklin,  and  is  worth  more  as  a  park  than 
as  a  farm,  but  I  do  not  think  the  occupants  care  about 
my  improving  it.'  I  did  not,  of  course,  suppose  that  the 
young  man  would  offend  you  and  disregard  your  wishes. 
He  appeared  to  be  very  anxious  to  obtain  your  views. 
Still,  all  that  is  over  now,  and  I  am  able  to  inform  you 
that  I  received  a  letter  from  him  this  morning  in  which 
he  tells  me  that  he  is  going  away.  That,  I  suppose,  will 
remove  the  last  cause  of  irritation  and  matters  will 
remain  where  they  were  before." 

"Did  he  tell  you  why  he  is  going  away?"  asked 
Kate. 

"Do  you  think  his  reasons  are  of  any  consequence," 
asked  Aunt  Sussex,  "so  long  as  he  goes  ?" 

"It  appears  to  me  from  the  tenor  of  his  letter,"  replied 
the  Judge,  "that  he  thinks  he  can  accommodate  you 
better  by  going." 

"He  is  sensitive  for  an  overseer,  isn't  he?"  said  Kate. 

"Well,"  cried  Sylvia,  "why  shouldn't  he  be,  if  he 
happens  to  be  a  gentleman  as  well  as  an  overseer?  No 
gentleman  would  stay  on  the  place  after  you  slammed 
the  door  in  his  face.  I'd  like  to  be  heiress  of  this  estate 
for  a  week ;  I'd  go  after  him." 


THE  JUDGE  ALSO  DANCES  A  MINUET    115 

"Hoity  toity  !"  says  my  fragile  little  lady  at  the  table. 
"What  you  would  do,  my  dear,  can  well  be  kept  for  a 
less  serious  occasion." 

"As  he  is  going  away,"  interposed  the  Judge,  "and 
matters  remain  as  they  were  before,  I  think  you  can 
rest  easy  on  that  score.  I  am  getting  too  old  to  make 
any  more  attempts  of  that  kind.  As  we  grow  old,  Miss 
Kate,  I  think  we  are  apt  to  grow  indifferent.  It  is  sad 
to  have  to  acknowledge  it.  But  one  cannot  keep  up 
with  the  enthusiasm  of  youth,  and  I  confess  that  the 
young  man's  vigour  and  alertness  began  to  tire  me. 
We  will  say  that  everything  is  where  it  was  before  he 
came,  and  let  us  hope  that  we  shall  get  word  from 
Mr.  Journingham  speedily." 

"But  Kate  does  not  want  to  hear  from  him," 
exclaimed  Sylvia.  "I  should  think  you  could  see 
that." 

Here  there  was  a  little  start  all  round  the  group. 
Kate  uttered  a  soft  cry  of  dismay.  Aunt  Sussex 
stood  up  and  rustled  ominously  and  the  Judge  looked 
from  Kate  to  Sylvia  inquiringly. 

"I  think,"  said  Aunt  Sussex,  "that  either  you  or  I 
had  better  retire,  young  lady.  If  you  will  go  to  your 
room,  your  sister  and  I  will  attend  to  the  affairs  of  the 
estate." 

"I  am  not  going  to  my  room,  aunty,  and  it's  very  mean 
of  you  to  treat  me  like  a  child  before  folks.  I  don't 
believe  you  know  what  you  are  doing,  and  I  don't 
beUeve  the  old  place  is  worth  it." 

The  three  women  were  all  on  their  feet  now,  two  of 
them  exhibiting  signs  of  dismay  and  one  of  them  stand- 
ing under  the  picture,  her  head  up,  her  eyes  flashing  and 
her  young  face  bearing  witness  to  the  birth  of  a  defiant 
will,  as  if,  indeed,  she  were  the  sudden  depository  of 


ii6  THE  CONQUERING  OF  KATE 

some  quality  that  had  dropped  down  upon  her  from  her 
ancestor. 

Kate  made  an  appeal  by  asking,  "Syl,  Syl,  what  are 
you  saying?" 

"I  am  saying  just  what  you  ought  to  say,  and  you 
know  it,"  rejoined  Sylvia.  "We  are  nothing  but  three 
helpless  women,  and  you  freeze  everybody  to  death  who 
wants  to  help  us.  I  wish  I  was  a  man — yes,  I  do,  just  for 
your  sake.  You  shouldn't  scare  me  into  my  room  or 
slam  the  door  in  my  face." 

With  that  she  came  upon  the  Judge  suddenly,  caught 
his  hand  in  both  of  hers,  and  looking  at  him,  clear-eyed 
and  resolutely,  said: 

"Good-by,  Uncle  Caleb.  You  are  the  best  friend 
we  have  left  and  we're  awful  slow  getting  it  into  our 
heads.  I  want  you  to  know  that  I  shall  always  think  so, 
no  matter  what  happens." 

Whereupon,  out  strides  Miss  Independence,  giving 
the  door  a  sharp  clip  and  leaving  something  like  a 
vacuum  behind  her,  in  which  the  Judge  blew  his  nose 
and  seemed  to  be  trying  to  recover  from  the  effects 
of  a  spontaneous  burst  of  affection  to  which  he  was 
unaccustomed. 

"Syl  is  right,"  said  Kate,  trying  to  fill  in  the  gap  as 
best  she  might.  "We  hope  to  retain  you  as  our  friend 
no  less  than  our  legal  adviser,  whatever  happens." 

"Yes,  yes,"  said  the  Judge,  evidently  touched.  "I 
am  glad  to  hear  you  say  it,  and  if  you  desire  to  keep  the 
management  of  the  estate  in  your  own  hands,  I  think 
perhaps  it  will  be  for  the  best,  for  I  am  not  the  man  that 
I  used  to  be." 

"Let  me  go  down  the  hill  with  you,"  Kate  said,  when 
he  was  at  the  door,  and  despite  his  protests,  she  picked 
up  a  gypsy  hat  and  accompanied  him  down  the  wood 


THE  JUDGE  ALSO  DANCES  A  MINUET    117 

road,  holding  his  arm  and  noticing  the  tincertainty  of  his 
once  vigorous  step. 

Thus  it  was  that  the  interview,  like  so  many  others 
that  had  preceded  it,  came  to  naught,  save  that  in  some 
respects  it  awakened  an  entirely  new  emotional  relation- 
ship between  the  Judge  and  Kate. 

"You  see,"  he  said,  as  they  went  slowly  down  the 
slope,  "I  am  not  as  vigorous  as  I  once  was,  and  this 
cold  is  discouraging  to  take  such  a  hold  of  me." 

"You  are  ill,"  said  Kate,  "and  I  do  hope  that  you 
will  take  care  of  your  health.  If  anything  should  happen 
to  you,  all  our  plans  and  hopes  would  be  futile." 

When  they  came  to  the  highway,  they  stopped  a 
moment  at  the  gate  and  he  tried  to  put  into  a  few  words 
what  had  been  as  yet  unsaid: 

"My  wife  called  upon  you,"  he  said. 

"Yes,  she  came  up.  I  sent  for  her.  It  was  to  tell  her 
about  the  arrangement  I  had  made." 

He  looked  at  her  thoughtfully  and  laid  his  hand  upon 
hers  as  it  rested  on  the  rail. 

"Kate,"  he  said,  "I  am  not  going  to  ask  you  what 
occurred,  but  whatever  it  was,  I  think  it  ought  to  make 
you  lenient  to  me." 

"I  tinderstand,"  she  said.  "Let  us  not  speak  of  it. 
For  the  same  reason,  perhaps,  after  what  has  occurred 
at  the  house  just  now,  you  ought  to  have  some  con- 
sideration for  me.     I  owe  a  great  deal  to  Aunt  Sussex." 

"Yes,  yes,"  he  said,  patting  her  hand,  "I,  too,  under- 
stand." 

She  tried  to  interrupt  him,  but  he  would  not  let  her. 
"Hear  me  a  moment,"  he  said.  "I  should  have  been 
your  adviser  in  this  matter  as  well  as  your  creditor,  but 
your  aunt  had  her  own  views  and  you  naturally  listened 
to  her.     I  should  have  made  plain  to  you  long  ago 


ii8  THE  CONQUERING  OF  KATE 

that  if  this  place  comes  tinder  the  hammer  in  spite  of 
me — that  is  to  say,  if  anything  should  happen  to  me 
— it  ought  to  bring  something  for  you  as  well  as  the 
creditor,  and  the  only  way  to  insure  that  was  to  bring 
the  place  up  to  the  new  market  values  which  southern 
property  like  this  commands  in  the  North.  To  do  that 
required  the  experience,  the  vigour  and  ability  of 
a  younger  man.  You  did  not  understand  it  and 
I  cannot  blame  you.  It  was  my  place  to  have 
taken  you  into  my  confidence.  I  can  only  regret  it 
now  that  it  is  too  late." 

"Don't  say  too  late;  it  sounds  dismal," 

"And  yet,  my  dear,  I  feel  that  it  is  too  late  if  Mr.  Burt 
has  gone  away." 

"Oh,  but  Judge,  surely  we  can  find  another  man. " 

"I  doubt  if  we  could  find  another  just  like  him.  He 
seemed  to  grasp  all  the  difficulties  in  an  instant  and 
some  of  them  melted  away  in  his  hands.  If  Mr.  Jour- 
ningham  had  been  here  and  had  an  interest  in  the  estate, 
I  think  he  would  have  seen  at  once  how  necessary  such  a 
man  is  to  the  betterment  of  the  place.  You  can  see 
how  distressing  and  disheartening  it  is  to  me  to  have 
both  Mr.  Joumingham  and  Mr.  Burt  disappear  at  the 
same  time.  It  almost  makes  me  feel  as  if  any  further 
effort  on  my  part  was  predetermined  to  failure. " 

"But  it  is  not  at  all  certain  that  Mr.  Joumingham  has 
disappeared,  and  if  he  has  it  does  not  follow  that  Mr. 
Burt  must.     You  will  have  to  tell  him  to  stay. " 

"As  I  have  been  unable  to  keep  him,  I  do  not  think 
that  I  shall  be  able  to  make  him  return.  I  do  not  have 
as  much  influence  with  people  as  I  once  had,  my  dear. 
You  understand  he  is  not  going  away  on  my  account." 

"Then  I  ought  to  ask  him  to  stay.  Why  don't  you 
speak  plainly.     You  know  I  will  do  as  you  bid  me. " 


THE  JUDGE  ALSO  DANCES  A  MINUET    119 

"Isn't  that  a  vehicle  coining  down  the  road?"  he 
asked. 

"Yes,"  replied  Kate;  "it  looks  like  your  phaeton." 

"Then  I  will  go  along,  my  dear.  God  bless  you.  I 
will  try  and  get  up  to  see  you  again. " 

"One  word,"  she  said.  "You  can  understand  how 
disagreeable  it  is  to  me  to  have  this  Joumingham  matter 
discussed.  I  think  it  would  be  well  not  to  say  anything 
until  we  have  some  definite  information. " 

"You  are  quite  right,"  he  said.  "We  will  keep  our 
own  counsel. " 

Then  he  left  her.  She  leaned  upon  the  gate  a  moment 
and  watched  him  as  he  met  the  phaeton.  She  saw  it 
turn  about  and  the  Judge  walking  on  the  side  of  the  road. 
She  felt  sure  that  Mrs.  Heckshent  was  scolding  him  from 
it  as  they  went  along.  Then  she  turned  and  went 
thoughtfully  up  the  slope,  stopping  now  and  then  to 
look  back  as  if  something  ominous  were  behind  her. 

The  Judge  walked  ahead  of  the  phaeton  and  entered 
his  home.  It  should  have  been  inviting,  for  it  wore  all 
the  external  appearances  of  comfort  and  some  of  the 
added  adornments  of  beauty.  But  it  was  not.  His 
impulse  was  to  turn  about  and  go  away  somewhere 
rather  than  undergo  the  ordeal.  He  stood  wearily  a 
moment  at  his  window  in  musing  uncertainty.  The 
afternoon  sunshine  of  the  calm  summer  day  mellowed 
the  Bussey  woods  and  showed  the  smiling  slope  of  the 
bluff  beyond  in  gleaming  pastoral  gradients.  The 
beautiful  scene  had  no  promise  in  it.  Its  melting  lines 
and  colours  were  to  him  a  sad  reproach  as  of  something 
lost.  Everything  in  his  mental  experience  was  reminis- 
cent. The  warm  glow  of  the  visit  to  the  old  Grange  was 
somehow  upon  him,  like  the  radiance  on  those  uplands, 
and  yet  it  was  not  his. 


I20  THE  CONQUERING  OF  KATE 

While  he  stood  there,  Mrs.  Heckshent  came  in.  He 
did  not  turn  from  the  window,  but  listened  to  her 
helplessly. 

"You'd  'a'  stayed  there  forever,  I  s'pose,  if  you  hadn't 
seen  me  comin'  for  you.  I  seen  you  sleevin'  her  down 
the  hill.  You  can  be  proper  sweet  on  them  as  insults 
your  lawful  wife  to  her  teeth  and  makes  a  fool  of  your 
own  flesh  and  blood.  What  hev  I  got  to  say  about  it  ? 
Well,  I've  got  this  to  say  about  it — a  man  o*  your  age 
ought  to  be  ashamed  of  himself  to  be  sneakin'  round 
with  them  hussies  and  neglectin'  his  own.  That's  just 
what  I've  got  to  say  about  it,  and  I  don't  care  who  hears 
it,  nuther.  You  mustn't  think  I  am  such  a  darned  fool, 
Caleb  Heckshent,  as  to  keep  my  mouth  shet  forever, 
when  it's  as  plain  as  plowin'  what's  goin'  on." 

He  turned  around  and,  walking  to  a  chair,  sat  down 
wearily,  saying: 

"What  do  you  think  is  going  on  now,  my  dear?" 

He  never  failed  in  all  the  buffetings  of  her  moods  to 
call  her  "my  dear,"  and  she  seldom  failed  when  the 
mood  was  on  to  convert  his  phrase  into  a  boomerang. 

"Oh,  you  needn't  'dear'  me,"  she  said.  "I  don't 
want  any  purrin'.     What  I  want  is  my  rights. " 

"Yes,"  he  assented.  "Have  I  robbed  you  of  any  of 
them?" 

"  Hev  you  ?  Mebbe  with  your  law  and  your  stuck-up 
friends  you  calkilate  to  treat  me  as  if  I  was  a  fool.  But 
mebbe  I  can  get  some  law  of  my  own.  You  don't  keep 
it  all  in  your  buzzum,  do  you  ? " 

"Are  you  going  to  take  the  law  in  your  own  hands, 
Molly?"  he  asked. 

"It  ain't  all  in  your  hands,  is  it?  Mebbe  I  ain't  got 
as  much  law  as  a  Jedge,  but  I  got  a  son.  I  don't  guess 
he's  a  youngster  forever,  and  he  ain't  jest  built  to  see  his 


THE    JUDGE  ALSO  DANCES  A  MINUET    121 

mother  robbed  by  law  while  his  pap's  a-climbin'  the  hill 
over  yan.  What  are  you  goin'  to  do  with  the  place? 
Are  you  goin'  to  snatch  it  or  let  'em  keep  it,  seein'  some 
of  it's  mine  by  law. " 

"Molly,"  said  the  Judge,  "let  me  advise  you  as  your 
husband  to  keep  off  the  hill.  There  is  some  law  that 
will  lie  against  even  a  Judge's  wife  for  trespass  and 
mischief,  and  I  don't  want  any  more  trouble  than  I  can 
bear. " 

"Oh, "  she  said,  putting  her  fists  on  her  hips  and  giving 
way  to  her  Tennessee  idioms.  "That's  where  you  were 
at.  You  was  helpin'  the  Busseys  to  take  the  law  agin' 
your  wife.  You  took  their  wine — I  can  smell  it  on  you, 
and  you  'my  deared'  'em  and  she  was  plum  honey. 
You  daren't  look  me  in  the  face.  You  holp  her  to  ruin 
your  own  son,  who  is  goin'  to  the  devil  on  her  account 
ever  since  he  left  the  post-ofhce,  and  then  you  put  her  up 
to  sass  me.  You  won't  git  to  do  it,  old  man.  I've  got 
Tennessee  blood  in  me. " 

At  that  moment  Folingsby  came  in,  somewhat  sneak- 
ingly,  and  sat  down  in  a  corner.  He  had  his  hands 
deep  in  his  pockets,  and  he  spread  himself  out  in  a  chair, 
somewhat  slouchingly  as  was  his  habit,  and  did  not 
remove  his  hat,  which  was  drawn  down  over  his  eyes. 
His  mother  addressed  herself  to  him  at  once. 

"What  did  I  tell  you?"  she  said.  "Your  old  man's 
been  up  yan  puttin'  'em  up  agin'  you,  'lowin'  you're  not 
good  enough  fer  their  likes  and  thro  win'  off  on  your  old 
mother.  You're  pooty  bad  trash,  I  guess,  in  this 
county,  with  such  a  father." 

The  Judge  looked  at  the  collapsed  figure  sullenly 
sprawled  in  the  comer.  Had  there  been  the  slightest 
protest  on  the  boy's  part  against  this  vulgar  unreason 
the  old  man  would  have  warmed  to  him  in  a  minute. 


122  THE  CONQUERING  OF  KATE 

Everything,  black  as  it  was,  would  have  vanished  in  one 
kindly  filial  impulse  for  all  that  the  father  had  done. 

"Do  you  feel  that  way,  Folingsby?"  the  Judge  asked, 
in  spite  of  his  determination  not  to  lend  any  fuel  to  a 
futile  blaze. 

"Well,  I  guess  the  old  woman's  plum  right,  pap. 
You've  got  the  county  pretty  much  down  on  me,  and  it 
never  was  much  good  to  me  to  have  a  Jedge  fiDr  a  father. 
I  guess  I  could  have  had  that  gal  if  the  old  woman  had 
had  her  way." 

There  was  no  use  in  appealing  to  such  an  attitude  of 
mind.  There  was  a  deep,  numb  consciousness  in  the 
father  that  any  attempt  to  reason  or  to  explain  or  any 
appeal  to  his  affectionate  nature  would  be  like  throwing 
his  heart  against  a  stone  fence.  And  yet,  such  is  the 
inscrutable  unreason  of  the  natural  affections,  that  bind 
up  pity,  aversion,  shame  and  an  inexpressible  yearning 
in  one  deep-lying  complex,  that  the  Judge  could  not 
help  putting  into  one  tremulous  phrase  all  that  he  felt. 

"My  son,  my  son,"  he  said.  "Why  are  you  deter- 
mined to  break  my  poor  old  heart  ? " 

Some  allowance  must  be  made  for  a  father.  In  the 
first  place,  he  was  sick;  in  the  second  place,  he  could  not 
on  the  instant  quite  banish  the  effect  of  that  bright, 
resolute  face  that  had  looked  up  into  his  with  a  ray  like 
that  of  sunshine  that  comes  to  a  starved  seed  in  the 
dark;  the  two  soft  hands  in  his,  and  the  throb  of  genuine 
sympathy  and  brave  confidence  from  one  who  did  not 
belong  to  him,  all  seemed  to  make  this  incomprehensible 
and  stolid  antagonism  of  one  who  did  belong  to  him 
and  upon  whom  so  many  tender  hopes  had  rested  look 
inexpressibly  ghastly  and  irremediable. 

"Oh,  shucks,"  said  Mrs.  Heckshent;  "I  guess  my  son 
ain't  breakin'  nothin'.     What  he  wants  is  his  own,  and 


THE  JUDGE  ALSO  DANCES  A  MINUET    123 

the  time's  come  for  to  speak  up  to  it.  He's  gettin'  tired 
o'  being  the  laughin'  stock  of  the  county.  If  there's 
any  heart  to  be  broke,  it's  them  as  has  what  isn't  theirs 
and  treat  honest  people  Hke  niggers.  My  son's  as  good 
as  the  best,  and  he'd  be  the  cock  of  the  walk  in  Franklin 
if  'twant  for  his  honeyfuglin'  old  pap.  Speak  up,  Folly ; 
there  ain't  nothin'  to  be  afraid  of." 

"Them's  my  sentiments,  pap,  pretty  much,"  said 
Folingsby,  doggedly.  "I  hain't  had  a  fair  shake,  and 
folks  'low  it's  my  old  man's  fault. " 

The  Judge  got  up.  "Molly, "he  said,  "I  guess  I'll 
go  upstairs  and  lie  down  awhile.  I'm  pretty  much 
tuckered. " 

His  wife  put  her  back  against  the  door.  "What  you 
goin'  to  do  with  the  place?"  she  asked.  "Air  you  goin' 
to  let  the  Englishman  walk  off  with  the  gal  and  the 
grounds  ?     That's  what  we  want  to  know. " 

"Yes,  that's  the  pint  of  order,"  said  Folingsby  with  a 
slight  chuckle. 

The  Judge  looked  from  one  to  the  other  and  straight- 
ened himself  a  little. 

"My  son,"  he  said,  "you  are  followmg  the  evil  and 
foolish  advice  of  your  mother.  Let  me  say  to  you  that 
I  hope  and  believe  you  will  Uve  to  repent  it.  If  you  will 
take  your  father's  advice,  you  will  give  up  the  insane 
folly  of  persecuting  Miss  Bussey  with  your  attentions. 
She  has  a  right  to  select  her  own  husband,  and  what  is 
ours  will  come  to  us.  Nothing  can  make  me  take  a  step 
which  would  interfere  with  her  desire  or  that  would 
secure  any  dishonourable  advantage  for  us  at  her  cost. 
We  might  as  well  understand  each  other  on  this  point  at 
once,  and  I  hope  that  I  shall  hear  no  more  about  it  in 
my  own  home.     Now,  let  me  pass,  my  dear. " 

His  wife  gave  him  a  parting  shot  as  he  went  out. 


134  THE  CONQUERING  OF  KATE 

"I  might  'a'  know'd  it,"  she  said.  "You  allers  did 
feel  ashamed  o'  your  own,  and  now  you've  said  it. " 

FoHngsby  stretched  his  legs,  shoved  his  hands  into  his 
pockets  deeper,  and  with  a  generally  collapsed  air,  said: 

"  I  guess  my  chance  is  plum  gone,  old  woman.  When 
he  talks  to  me  I  feel  's  if  I  had  nigger  blood  in  my  veins. 
She's  got  a  right  good  holt  of  me,  and  it  makes  me 
wicked.     Durned  if  I  ain't  afeerd  of  myself  sometimes.  " 

"Now,  you'll  go  off  to  the  Rock  Yard  and  fill  yourself 
bilin'  full,"  said  his  mother. 

"Must  do  suthin',"  he  replied.  "I  ain't  good  at 
thinkin'." 

The  Judge  went  upstairs  to  his  large  chamber  and 
threw  himself  on  the  bed  with  his  hands  locked  behind 
his  head.  The  irritation  of  the  scene  through  which  he 
had  passed  was  not  evident.  His  surfaces  were  perhaps 
made  somewhat  callous  by  repetition.  But  he  was 
suffering  at  the  centre  with  a  numb  pain.  There  was  a 
tumbler  of  cough  mixture  on  the  table  near  at  hand,  a 
compound  of  hoarhound,  whisky  and  what  Mrs. 
Heckshent  called  "dry  sweetenin'."  He  tasted  it  and 
pushed  it  away.  He  was  thinking,  or  trying  to  think, 
over  an  old  Article  of  Faith  to  which  he  had  once  given 
a  hearty  consent.  Somewhere  and  somehow  in  his 
earlier  life  he  had  fallen  passively  into  the  belief  that 
love  was  sooner  or  later  a  conquering  influence.  He  had 
so  read  it  and  so  heard  it  from  the  pulpit,  and  there  was  a 
time  when  it  had  incarnated  itself  in  a  living  promise. 
Now  he  was  asking  himself  how  it  was  that  love  in  his 
case  had  given  birth  only  to  an  invincible  and  malign 
opposition.  Could  it  be  possible  in  the  scheme  of  things 
that  if  he  waited  a  few  years  longer  his  boy  would  come 
to  him  and  say,  "Father,  I  have  sinned  against  heaven 
and  against  thee."     How  gladly  would  he  put  his  arms 


THE  JUDGE  ALSO  DANCES  A  MINUET    125 

about  the  prodigal's  neck,  and  forgetting  everything 
else,  pull  him  to  his  heart  once  more  with  thankfulness 
for  one  miserable  little  gleam  of  affection.  Perhaps  that 
were  worth  living  on  for.  It  was  not  conceivable  that 
in  the  nature  of  things  this  could  be  forever  denied  him 
along  with  all  else.  There  would  be  something  wrong 
in  the  government  of  the  universe  if  it  could  be  so. 

Presently  he  dozed  off  out  of  sheer  fatigue  and  was 
awakened  by  some  one  at  the  door.  In  the  sudden 
uncertainty  he  thought  it  was  Folingsby,  and  half  rose 
up  to  meet  him. 

It  was  the  Doctor.  The  Judge  threw  himself  back 
again  with  just  the  slightest  indication  of  disappoint- 
ment, and  the  little  man  came  in  fussily  and  chipper, 
carrying  his  small  pharmacy  under  his  arm. 

Doctor  Dunphy,  it  may  as  well  be  said  at  once,  was  the 
provincial  factotum  of  that  section  of  Franklin  County. 
Whatever  medical  science  the  dapper  little  old  man 
possessed  had  long  since  settled  into  the  rut  of  every- 
day experience  and  conformed  itself  to  the  unvarying 
demands  of  his  clientele.  Thirty  years  of  fever  and 
ague  and  bilious  complaints  had  insensibly  modified 
his  views  both  of  the  mystery  of  physical  evil  and  the 
breadth  of  the  pharmacopoei,  and  the  monotonous 
sameness  of  the  ills  that  Franklin  County  flesh  was  heir 
to  had  resulted  in  a  debonair  sameness  of  treatment 
that  was  no  doubt  delightful  in  its  simplicity  as  it  was 
often  surprisingly  effective  in  its  results.  He  often 
spoke  of  his  mission  in  life  as  being  a  plain-sailing  and 
humble  duty — it  was  to  keep  the  pores  and  the  bowels 
of  Franklin  in  active  operation.  Nature  did  the  rest. 
But  he  was  apt  to  overlook  the  large  influence  that  he 
exerted  as  a  circulatory  medium.  He  went  unceasingly 
from  point  to  point  in  his  "shay,"  giving  rise  to  lazy 


126  THE  CONQUERING  OF  KATE 

queries  as  to  when  he  ate  and  slept,  and  always  coming 
freighted  with  the  cheerful  gossip  that  he  picked  up  on 
the  way.  Some  one  had  likened  him  to  the  wayward 
bee  that  bumbles  ceaselessly  from  plant  to  plant,  and 
I  dare  say  the  similitude  was  apt,  for  the  Doctor  cross- 
fertilized  all  the  sequestered  families  with  his  tattle,  and 
left  each  household  with  new  activities  of  gossip ;  and 
in  a  community  where  there  are  so  few  centres  of 
exchange  the  phantom  doctor's  "shay"  was,  as  one  old 
lady  in  her  dearth  expressed  it,  a  tie  that  binds. 

His  little  eyes,  deep  sunken  in  a  pudgy  face,  that  was 
surmounted  by  an  imposing  baldness  of  dome  and 
flanked  by  short,  white,  flossy  Episcopal  whiskers, 
twinkled  authoritatively  as  he  drew  up  a  chair  briskly 
by  the  bedside  and,  sitting  down,  began  to  open  his 
satchel  and  pour  some  white  pellets  into  his  hand, 
saying : 

"Well,  Judge,  we've  got  you  on  your  back  at  last. 
Suppose  you  just  swallow  six  grains  as  a  preliminary 
toner,  and  then  we'll  see  what  the  devil  you  are  doing 
on  your  back." 

The  Judge  waved  the  quinine  away.  "I  have  got  a 
severe  cold — that's  all — sat  through  a  long  case  at 
quarter  sessions  in  wet  clothes,  like  an  idiot.  If  you 
have  anything  in  your  poke.  Doctor,  that  will  make  a 
man  take  enough  interest  in  himself  to  get  well  and  not 
act  like  a  cussed  fool,  I  wish  you'd  give  it  to  me." 

"Oh, ho,"  says  the  Doctor;  "good  enough.  You've 
come  down  to  megrims,  have  you?  I'll  just  make  it 
eight  grains.  Now,  if  you  will  swallow  that  and  adjourn 
the  court,  or  else  let  me  be  the  presiding  judge,  we  shall 
get  along  very  nicely." 

But  the  Judge  did  not  swallow  the  quinine,  and  the 
Doctor,  getting  hold  of  his  wrist,  chatted  away  as  he 


THE  JUDGE  ALSO  DANCES  A  MINUET   la; 

held  it.  "Pretty  lively  pace,  that,  my  old  friend." 
And  he  began  feeling  in  his  satchel  with  the  other  hand 
for  a  Dover's  powder.  "I  guess  we  can  pull  you  out 
without  any  great  tug.  A  good  ten-hours'  sleep,  and 
a  little  light  nourishment,  don't  you  know,  and  a  clean 
conscience,  and  there  you  are  again,  as  right  as  a  trivet." 

He  got  up,  lifted  his  satchel  to  the  table  and  began 
fumbling,  going  over  to  the  door  and  calling  loudly  for 
a  pitcher  of  water  and  a  glass,  and  keeping  up  his 
buz-buz. 

"That  Gum  Valley  Railroad,  I  s'pose  you  know,  has 
broken  ground.  It's  going  to  lift  things  hereabout. 
Ought  to  bring  that  Bussey  property  into  the  market. 
S'pose  you  don't  see  much  of  your  neighbours  on  the  hill. 
I  did  hear  there  was  going  to  be  a  wedding  up  there. 
No  signs  of  a  chill,  I  suppose?" 

"No,"  said  the  Judge. 

"Well,  I  suppose  that  our  old  friend  Seton  up  to  the 
Yards  will  have  a  shake  if  the  Busseys  manage  to  keep 
hold  of  the  old  place.  He's  had  his  sly  eye  on  it  a  long 
time,  and  he's  one  of  the  directors  of  the  Gum  Valley 
road." 

"Yes,  I  know,"  said  the  Judge. 

"Pretty  close-mouthed  old  fox,  Judge.  But  his  fore- 
man, Jake  Bissel,  was  thrown  down  last  week  with  a 
bad  scalp  wound — premature  explosion,  I  believe.  It 
took  me  an  hour  to  pick  the  quartz  out  of  his  skull. 
When  I  got  him  patched  up  he  began  to  talk,  and  what 
with  his  wife's  help — and  her  tongue  goes  like  a  dog's 
tail — I  came  to  the  conclusion  that  Seton  calculated  to 
have  the  place  sooner  or  later.  You  see,  he  wants  a 
single  track  from  the  Yards  to  the  Branch  to  haul  his 
stone  instead  of  truckin'  it,  and  that  plateau  between 
the  bluff  and  the  eastern  slope  invites  staking  out.    All 


128  THE  CONQUERING  OF  KATE 

he'd  have  to  do  would  be  to  follow  the  river  and  do  a 
little  trestling  at  the  wet -meadows,  and  I  suppose  he'd 
make  the  stockholders  at  the  Branch  pay  for  it.  It 
would  be  a  big  thing,  Judge,  for  our  natural  resources, 
and  he  wouldn't  have  to  drive  his  mules  three  miles 
round  about." 

"He  will  have  to  drive  his  mules  over  me  first,"  said 
the  Judge.     "Don't  you  forget  that." 

"That's  what  I  said  to  myself,  Judge,"  replied  the 
Doctor,  tinkling  a  spoon  in  the  glass.  "  Only  it  wouldn't 
be  so  hard  for  him  to  drive  over  your  grave  as  over  a 
live  Heckshent.  Don't  you  think  you'd  better  take 
the  eight  grains?" 

"  Give  them  to  me,"  said  the  Judge. 

"That's  right,"  observed  the  Doctor;  "there's  a  good 
deal  of  Hvely  encouragement  in  eight  grains." 


CHAPTER  VIII 
The  Witch's    Run 

Nearly  two  miles  north  of  the  Bussey  estate  rose 
gently  the  mountain  road  on  the  Round  Top  hill  into 
which  the  Tuscarora  Quarries  had  eaten  their  way, 
leaving  a  great  raw  exposure  of  gray  stone.  The 
romantic  wildness  increased  as  one  climbed  the  ascent 
over  a  roadway,  cut  into  furrows  by  the  mules  and  in 
places  wholly  embowered  by  the  dense  timber. 

Round  about  the  quarry  itself  there  was  a  settlement 
made  up  of  the  one  commodious  mansion  of  Captain 
Eric  Seton,  a  little  apart  on  a  plateau  of  its  own,  and 
the  ruder  huts  and  cabins  of  the  hundred  workmen, 
interspersed  by  mule-sheds  and  one  or  two  boarding- 
houses,  making  a  fringe  of  village  life  whose  homeliness 
was  softened  and  half-hidden  by  the  luxuriant  kindli- 
ness of  Nature  herself.  In  the  centre  of  all,  the  gray 
rocks  gleamed  in  the  sun  with  their  ledges  and  strata, 
overtopped  by  a  dark  forest  and  interminable  under- 
brush, out  of  which  there  sometimes  dropped  down 
upon  the  benches  of  granite  where  the  picks  and  derricks 
were  at  work  a  writhing  rattler  dislodged  by  a  blast. 

Over  the  crest  of  the  hill  toward  the  north  a  meager 
and  less-traveled  road  wound  down  westward  through 
the  gums  and  scrub  oak  and  wild  flowers,  in  tortuous 
narrowness,  to  one  of  those  shut-in  glens  with  a  natural 
campus  that  Nature  stows  away  out  of  the  line  of  travel 
in  all  her  mountains,  but  has  nowhere,  save  perhaps  in 

129 


13©  THE  CONQUERING  OF  KATE 

some  of  her  Alpine  nooks,  so  lavished  her  wealth  of 
colour  and  curvature  and  her  perennial  delight  of  sweet 
water  was  here.  The  bulks  of  the  surrounding  hills  came 
convergingly  down  to  a  circular  plain  half  a  mile  broad, 
through  which  the  Kitchomony,  tired  of  its  gallopade 
over  brinks  and  boulders,  spread  itself  out  in  a  blue 
lagoon,  as  if  to  rest,  and  in  which  the  hills  and  outlying 
peaks  were  never  tired  of  looking  at  themselves. 

Here  on  what  must  have  once  been  a  bottom  land 
but  was  now  a  dry  level  plain,  interlaced  with  blue  grass 
and  wild  roses,  festooned  by  bright  green  alders  and 
cunningly  landlocked  by  receding  forests,  had  been  the 
historic  meeting  place  of  the  savage,  and  later  of  the 
pioneers  who  were  to  scale  mountains  and  go  down 
into  the  dark  and  bloody  ground  of  Kentucky.  Why 
it  was  called  the  Witch's  Run  it  would  not  benefit  us  to 
inquire,  especially  as  the  later  civilization  in  its  abrasion 
was  content  to  know  the  place  as  The  Run.  Here  it  was 
that  Logan  had  whetted  his  knife  on  the  boulder  still 
sticking  out  of  the  laurel  and  crab-grass,  and  here  he  had 
thrown  the  white  sand  of  the  Kitchomony  into  the  air 
as  a  defiant  symbol  of  his  undying  vengeance  on  the 
white  man.  Here,  too,  came  later  with  the  opening 
century  those  stalwart  itinerants  who  called  the  scat- 
tered mountaineers  together  with  a  horn  and  held  their 
riotous  bush  meetings  while  the  "b'ars"  and  cata- 
mounts were  still  lurking  on  the  edges  of  the  camp. 

The  Run  was  about  a  mile  from  the  Quarries,  and 
midway  between  them  on  the  descending  road  there 
were  clustered  two  or  three  rude  houses  on  a  shelf  that 
looked  down  upon  the  green  circus  beneath  and  into  its 
stretch  of  mirroring  water.  The  Quarries,  like  a  little 
army,  had  their  camp  followers,  and  they  were  kept  at 
a   respectable    distance    by    the    regulations.     An    old 


THE  WITCH'S  RUN  131 

Tennessee  moonshiner,  dimly  preserved  to  us  in  tradi- 
tion as  Baldy  Turck,  had  built  the  oldest  of  these  cabins 
of  logs  when  Harrison  was  fighting  the  battle  of  Tippe- 
canoe. In  it  Asbury  had  eaten  ash  cake,  venison  and 
wild  honey  and  slept  soundly  imder  the  hospitahty  of 
the  old  sinner.  It  was  now  patched  and  refashioned 
into  roomy  ugliness,  and  one  had  to  himt  carefully 
about  the  kitchen  to  find  the  remnants  of  the  original 
logs.  But  the  descendants  of  Baldy  still  held  the  place, 
and  in  it  perpetuated  most  of  his  iniqmties,  and,  perhaps, 
some  of  his  hardy  viri;ues. 

Captain  Seton  had,  once  or  twice,  tried  to  root  the 
place  out.  His  motives  were  purely  economic,  and, 
not  being  muddled  by  any  moral  considerations,  were 
futile.  The  Shelf,  as  it  was  called,  interfered  very  often 
with  his  contracts,  but  it  was  the  only  resort  his  rough 
men  had,  and  he  came  in  time  to  regard  it  with  necessi- 
tous tolerance.  It  possessed  peculiar  attractions  for 
his  men  at  all  times,  but  never  so  enticingly  as  just  after 
the  monthly  pay-day.  They  could  not  only  gamble 
away  their  wages  and  drink  poor  whisky  to  their  hearts' 
content,  undisturbed  by  any  conventional  restrictions, 
at  the  Shelf,  but  they  could  stand  off  and  shoot  at  each 
other  in  the  plain  below  when  the  code  of  alcoholism 
demanded  it,  and  try  to  break  each  other's  backs  on 
the  wrestling-ground  when  there  was  a  chivalrous  dif- 
ference of  opinion  with  regard  to  "the  gals"  or  there 
had  been  some  irregularities  in  "keerds."  Sometimes 
the  deputy  sheriff  of  Franklin  arrived  at  the  Shelf  with 
seven-shooters  in  his  pockets  and  was  politely  "wanting 
some  one."  Then  the  outlying  alleys  and  hiding  places 
of  the  mountains  known  only  to  the  Shelf  were  like  a 
continual  guarantee. 

It  was  at  The  Run  that  the  abeyant  animal  life  of  the 


132  THE  CONQUERING  OF  KATE 

Quarries  expended  itself  in  play,  which,  although  it  was 
often  coarse,  was  not  always  violent.  Oftener  it  was 
a  wild  but  innocent  debauch  of  sheer  vitality  in  which 
the  long-curbed  impulses  and  passions  of  men  exulted 
in  noisy  freedom  and  action.  Then  there  was  a  strange 
picturesqueness  given  to  the  levels  of  The  Run.  They 
raced  their  horses  at  daredevil  speed,  jumping  the 
brush  and  screeching  Hke  Indians,  or  they  danced  with 
the  maenads  in  the  moonlight,  tumultuous  and  lusty 
dances  that  were  tests  of  endurance  and  resistance,  and 
to  which  they  furnished  a  music  of  their  own  in  uncouth 
songs  when  there  was  no  nigger  with  a  fiddle  or  a  banjo. 
You  must  recall  to  mind  the  demi-savage  that  the 
outskirts  of  civilization  furnished  as  the  savage  himself 
receded.  The  transition  was  gradual,  and  some  of  the 
intermediate  natures  still  lingered  among  the  moun- 
tains of  Pennsylvania  no  less  than  of  Tennessee,  inherit- 
ing, it  would  seem,  the  dominating  persistency  of  one 
race  and  something  of  the  superstition  and  woodcraft 
of  the  other.  You  must  remember  this,  I  say,  to  look 
with  any  measure  of  allowance  into  the  paganism  of  The 
Run.  The  men  who  made  up  Captain  Seton's  colony 
were  as  yet  drawn  from  the  wilderness  itself  in  most 
part.  Long,  lank,  sinewy,  remnants  of  a  pioneer  age, 
tougher  than  the  hickory  they  bent  and  hewed ;  ignorant 
as  the  vagrants  of  the  forest  always  are  and  defiant  of 
anything  like  systematic  restriction,  but  withal  possess- 
ing some  kind  of  fealty  to  a  code  of  their  own,  and  as 
tenacious  of  their  wrongs  as  a  Corsican.  Their  sport 
would  not  be  comprehended  by  us.  It  often  led  them 
in  sheer  playfulness  to  put  a  black  racer  in  a  girl's  bed, 
or  drop  a  milk  snake  down  her  neck,  or  wheedle  a 
stranger  to  sit  down  on  a  nest  of  yellow-jackets.  But 
they  had  a  keen  sense  of  their  national  birthright  as 


THE  WITCH'S  RUN  133 

Americans,  and  their  fathers  had  boasted  of  being 
Yanks  in  contradistinction  to  all  "furriners."  But  the 
Civil  War  had  made  the  Yanks  sectional  and  the  word 
"Natyve"  had  superseded  it. 

Old  Baldy  Turck's  cabin  stood  by  the  roadside,  a 
long,  sprawling,  shed-like  structure  half  hidden  by  the 
wild  rhododendrons,  dogwood  and  laurel.  In  its  one 
big  room  with  its  floor  of  hewn  boards,  flaring  fireplace 
and  smoky  walls  the  choice  spirits  of  the  "rock  yards" 
found  such  conviviality  and  companionship  as  their 
natures  demanded  and  as  could  be  furnished  by  the 
gathering  maenads  of  the  little  colony.  Two  of  Baldy 
Turck's  granddaughters,  with  their  mother  and  brother, 
held  the  place  with  no  other  than  the  rights  of  ancient 
squatter  sovereignty  which  in  early  times  had  its  com- 
mon law  hereditaments  that  were  afterward  superseded 
but  were  never  voluntarily  relinquished.  The  two 
girls.  Tansy  and  Suke,  were  able  to  drink  their  whisky 
like  men,  and  could  dance  more  than  one  man  off  his  feet 
in  a  Virginia  reel.  As  for  the  mother,  she  was  a  scarred 
and  reticent  memorial  with  one  eye  (she  had  lost  the 
other  when  eighteen  by  a  blow  from  her  father),  and 
presided  in  the  chimney-comer  with  cyclopean  majesty 
and  a  dipping-stick.  She  never  had  been  known  to  be 
without  a  barrel  of  whisky  under  the  trap  in  the  kitchen, 
and  was  suspected  of  having  a  stockingful  of  shillings 
and  Mexican  dollars  under  the  hearth  where  she  planted 
her  two  broad  feet  every  evening  and  watched  the 
gambling  and  "sparking"  without  a  flutter,  not  even 
a  free  fight  sufficing  to  perturb  her  any  more  than  to  ask 
of  her  son,  Lunt,  when  it  was  finished  out  on  the  road, 
"Who  crowed,  Sonny?"  and  when  he  replied,  "Who 
ginerally  crows,  mammy,  on  this  clearin'  ?"  she  went  on 
with  her  dipping.     But  if,  as  on  some    occasions,  the 


134   -         THE  CONQUERING  OF  KATE 

company's  hilarity  rose  to  a  predatory  height,  and  it 
was  proposed  to  raid  the  whisky  barrel  and  dispense 
with  any  further  score,  she  took  down  Baldy's  old 
double-barreled  gun  from  the  crooknecks,  planted 
herself  on  the  trap,  and  glaring  at  the  turbulent  roys- 
terers  with  her  one  eye,  said: 

"Less  see  the  varmint  that  ken  take  Jan  Turck's 
whisky  thoutin  pay." 

Then  they  saluted  her  with  gusts  of  ribald  laughter. 
But  they  respected  her  "  bar'l." 

Each  season  had  its  appropriate  banquet  in  that 
room.  There  were  "  'possum  and  coon  roasts,"  "water- 
million  feeds,"  and  "com  bilin's,"  at  all  of  which  the 
only  liquid  furnished  came  from  the  staimch  "bar'l" 
under  the  trap.  Sometimes,  during  the  summer  nights 
when  the  whisky  and  the  dance  drove  them  to  maniac 
excess,  they  broke  loose  with  a  common  impulse  from  the 
fumes  of  plug  tobacco  and  tallow  candles  and,  streaming 
out  into  the  moonlight,  leaped  over  the  Shelf  and  went 
headlong  down  to  the  level,  to  fling  themselves  into  the 
cool  silver  lagoon,  the  women  tearing  off  everything 
but  their  tow  petticoats  and  the  men  wearing  only  their 
butternut  trowsers  rolled  up  to  their  thighs.  Then  they 
gave  themselves  up  to  rude  sport,  clawing  and  mauling 
each  other  like  camivora  at  play,  but  curiously  safe- 
guarded by  the  free  flow  of  animal  volitions,  unim- 
periled  by  any  imagination  and  that  expended  themselves 
in  vociferous  and  joyous  action;  and  then  the  women 
crept  back  to  their  bunks  and  the  men  dropped  down 
on  the  sandy  reaches  amid  the  crab-grass  to  sleep  off 
the  rest  of  it  till  Captain  Seton's  overseer  came  riding 
down  in  the  morning  with  a  dog-whip  to  coax  them 
back  to  their  mule  teams. 

Folingsby  rode  up  to  the  entranceway  of  the  Turck 


THE  WITCH'S  RUN  135 

house  just  as  the  declining  sun  was  rimming  the  slopes 
on  the  other  side  of  The  Run  with  a  transient  glory.  He 
turned  in,  led  his  horse  to  a  shed,  and  came  back  to  the 
porch.     Suke  opened  the  door  and  came  out  to  meet  him. 

"Don't  yer  go  in  thar,"  she  said.  "Lunt's  ugly,"  and 
she  caught  him  in  her  vigorous  way  by  the  arm.  "Come 
down  the  bank,"  she  said,  "I  wantter  chin  y'r." 

He  pulled  his  arm  away  rather  viciously.  "Lunt 
aint  afeerd  o'  me.     I  want  a  drink,"  he  said. 

She  drew  back  a  little  and  towered  above  him  with 
unconscious  stateliness,  her  black  hair,  flowing  back 
unkempt  from  her  swart  face,  and  bound  only  with  a 
string,  tumbling  down  her  back.  Her  long  arms, 
uncovered  to  the  shoulder,  massive  and  strong,  were 
half  drawn  up  in  suspense. 

"What  ails  y'r?"  she  asked. 

"I  don't  like  to  be  pushed,  and  I  want  a  drink." 

With  that  he  shoved  past  her  and  went  into  the  house. 
Lunt  was  sprawled  on  a  wooden  trestle  and  the  old 
woman  sat  in  the  fireless  chimney-comer,  dipping. 

"Gimme  some  liquor,  Mam,  and  take  my  chalks 
down.     There's  some  paper  that  talks."  / 

He  gave  her  a  bill,  one  of  the  greenbacks  then  so 
plentiful.  She  took  it  without  noticing  the  lordly  airs 
he  put  on,  held  it  up  to  her  one  eye  and  growled : 

"I  likes  money  I  kin  bite." 

But  she  put  it  down  in  her  long  pocket  carefully  and 
one  of  the  girls  brought  a  bottle  and  glasses.  It  was 
very  apparent  that  Folingsby  was  in  the  habit  of  assum- 
ing slightly  proprietary  airs  in  the  place. 

"All  round,"  he  said,  looking  at  Lunt.  "You  can 
swallow  your  grudge,  can't  you  ?" 

"Likker  'd  make  mine  wuss,  I  guess.  I  don'  swaller 
so  easy  as  y'r." 


136  THE  CONQUERING  OF  KATE 

They  had  had,  a  few  days  before,  what  at  The  Run 
was  called  a  falling  out.  They  were  on  the  track  with 
their  horses;  words  had  passed,  and  Lunt  had  picked 
up  a  stone  and  thrown  it  at  Folingsby,  whereupon  the 
young  man  had  whipped  out  a  pistol  quickly  and  fired 
at  his  antagonist.  Nothing  daunted,  Lunt  picked  up 
another  stone  and  struck  Folingsby  in  the  pistol  arm, 
but  the  weapon  was  changed  to  the  other  hand  and 
fired  again.  After  two  bullets  had  whistled  past  Lunt's 
head,  he  hesitated  a  moment,  as  if  measuring  the  chances, 
and  then  walked  away.  The  conversation  came  back 
to  that  vital  point: 

"What  did  you  draw  a  rock- on  me  for?"  asked 
Folingsby. 

"So  you  cud  stay  to  hum  and  nurse  y'r  arm." 

"Well,  I  didn't  hunt  a  hole,  did  I  ?" 

"No.  Y'r  got  sand  nufE  when  ye've  got  a  gun,  er 
y'r  wouldn't  come  up  here." 

"Well,  I'm  comin'  up,  Buckey,  but  it  ain't  to  see  you: 
I  heard  there  was  a  com-bilin'  here  to-night  and  I 
guessed  you  might  be  bilin',  too.  I  ain't  missin'  fun  on 
account  of  rocks." 

Folingsby  then  drank  his  liquor  like  a  major,  and  one 
of  the  strapping  girls  opened  the  door  wide.  As  he  set 
his  glass  down  and  turned  round  to  see  what  was  going 
on,  Suke  put  her  hands  on  his  shoulders  suddenly  and 
pushed  him  out,  following  him  upon  the  porch,  while 
her  sister  slammed  the  door.  With  the  obstinacy  of  his 
kind,  he  instantly  made  an  effort  to  get  past  the  girl  and 
reenter,  but  she  put  her  long  arms  across  the  doorway 
and  gave  him  to  understand  that  it  was  impossible. 

"Talksquar,"  she  said;  "what'd  y'r  come  fer  ?" 

"  'Cause  I'm  ugly,"  he  replied,  with  a  defiant  sulkiness. 

"Git  y'r  horse  and  go  back,"  said  the  girl. 


THE  WITCH'S  RUN  137 

She  had  a  rude  sententiousness  that  was  direct, 
like  her  actions.  "You'll  make  trouble  for  us 
all  with  the  Squire.  Come  away,"  she  said,  "and  I'll 
tell  y'r." 

She  caught  hold  of  him  again  and  pulled  him  away 
from  the  house  in  the  direction  of  the  Shelf,  and  there 
they  sat  down  in  the  twilight  reflected  from  the  hills. 
She  put  her  two  elbows  on  her  knees,  and  with  her  black 
hair  tumbling  over  the  two  hands  that  held  her  face, 
she  looked  at  him  closely  and  inquiringly. 

"What'd  he  rock  y'r  fer  ?" 

"Thought  I'd  peter,  but  I  stud." 

"He  'lows  y'r  mean  and  don't  talk  squar  to  me.  He's 
one  of  we-uns.     Talk  squar  to  me  now." 

"What  for?  Maybe  you'd  like  to  draw  a  rock  on  me, 
too.     You're  all  of  one  bilin'." 

He  dropped  easily  enough  to  her  vernacular,  but  there 
was  something  in  the  close  swart  face  staring  at  him 
with  that  unfaltering  open-eyed  gaze  that  discomfited 
him,  and  when  he  was  discomfited  he  was  apt  to  be 
irascibly  defiant. 

"Ye'r  tired  of  me,"  she  said.  "You-uns  git  tired — 
I've  heerd  it.  Lunt  knows  it.  Say  suthin',  fer  Gourd's 
sake." 

He  might  liave  said  something.  It  was  his  rash 
impulse  to  blurt  the  truth  when  it  was  meanest.  He 
might  have  told  her  that  he  had  come  suddenly  to  the  end 
of  a  piece  of  insensate  folly;  that  her  lusty  femininity 
had  worn  out  its  charm ;  that  he  had  fooled  away  half  a 
year  in  a  reckless  dishonesty  of  purpose,  encountering 
in  that  strange,  fecund  soil  mysterious  and  dangerous 
passions,  and  now  he  was  sick  of  it  all.  To  have  said 
this  required  a  candour  and  bravery  that  were  not  in  him. 
His   pusillanimity   when   held   up   before   him   always 


138  THE  CONQUERING  OF  KATE 

accommodated  itself  to  his  habit  of  reversion  and  looked 
like  a  wrong  put  upon  him. 

"  Shucks,"  he  said.  "I'm only  one  kernel  in  the  heap: 
you've  lots  of  'em.  One  don't  count  much  more  or  less 
with  you-uns." 

It  was  interesting  to  see  this  rough  diamond  of  a  girl 
trying  with  her  limited  faculties  to  comprehend  the 
brutal  effrontery  which  her  woman's  nature  appre- 
hended. She  had  no  sensibilities  to  be  hurt  at  the  insult 
implied  in  his  speech,  but  there  was  a  deeper  nature 
that  could  be  wounded  by  his  recreancy.  Some  kind  of 
noise  in  the  shed  where  he  had  put  his  horse  made  them 
both  listen. 

"He'll  hamstring  my  pony,"  said  Folingsby.  "Damn 
him ! " 

"You  set  there,"  she  said.  "I'll  look,"  and  springing 
up  she  went  to  the  shed.  He  watched  her  figure  in  the 
pink  twilight.  She  was  as  lithe  as  a  tigress.  Her 
swelling  flanks  and  rounded  torso  moved  with  the 
sinuous  voluptuousness  of  the  Felidae,  and  her  bare  feet 
and  round  ankles  gleamed  a  moment  in  the  rosy  light  as 
she  snatched  up  her  tow  frock  and  bounded  over  to  the 
shed.  It  was  indicative  of  his  sex  development  that  her 
quantitative  attractions  softened  his  acerbity,  and  he 
wondered  if  she  might  not  be  plum  right  enough  if  she 
only  had  on  a  white  frock  and  stockings  and  could  sit 
on  a  porch  with  her  hair  done  up  and  a  white  field-flower 
in  her  bosom. 

When  she  came  back  with  her  black  mane 
streaming  behind  her  and  sat  down  again,  it  was 
to  resume  the  inquisitive  stare  where  it  had  been 
broken  off. 

"Youse  are  meaner  sperreted  than  we-uns,"  she  said. 
"Lunt  couldn't  calkilate  to  hurt  a  horse." 


THE  WITCH'S  RUN  139 

"Suke,"  he  said  coaxingly,  "we're  friends,  anyhow. 
Let  me  tie  your  hair  up  on  yotir  head." 

"My  ha'r's  plum  good  nuflE  and  frens  is  accordin'.'* 

"According  to  what?  Don't  be  pesky.  Let's  go  in 
and  disremember.  What  you  stare  at  me  that  way 
for?". 

"Want  to  diskiver  what  we're  comin'  at.  You  made 
it  different  from  the  heap  of  'em.  Speak  squar  to  me. 
Whar  be  I  at  ?  I  never  had  a  dumb  ager,  but  I  hear'n 
tell,  an'  it's  like  it  in  my  buzzum  now." 

"Don't  be  a  fool,  Suke.  Young  un's  can  have  their 
foolin',  can't  they?  What's  the  use  of  bein'  grumps 
with  me?  I  had  only  one  drink.  Less  make  up  all 
round.     I'm  fer  the  bilin'  to-night  and  the  shake-down." 

"You  set  still,"  she  said,  "and  tell  me.  Y'r  diffem't 
from  tothers.  Good  Gourd,  you  dun  gone  and  made 
it  differn't.  'Twant  me.  Did  you  mean't  squar? 
Mebbe  y'r  calkilate  I'm  a  darned  fool  coz  I  can't  read 
after  a  book,  and  my  pelt  sticks  outen  my  old  frock, 
but  ye  didn't  talk  it  fer  half  a  year.  I  heerd  you  wuz 
a-fixin'  to  go  me  shet.  Mebbe  you  calkilate  Baldy 
Turck's  family  don't  know  a  squar  thing  coz  they  can't 
read  it  after  a  book." 

Then  he  played  his  masculine  card  of  evasive  pacifi- 
cation. He  pulled  her  big  warm  hand  toward  him, 
lolled  over  on  the  bank  toward  her  and  tried  to  cajole 
her. 

"What's  the  use  of  bein'  mad  fer  nothin' ?"  he  said. 
"I  don't  calculate  to  go  shut  of  you,  but  I  can't  do  things 
all  to  once,  can  I?  Be  decent.  I  always  'lowed  you 
was  the  prettiest  girl  in  Franklin,  and  if  I  could  do  as 

I  pleased " 

^   "What'd  y'r  do  ?"  she  asked. 

He  had  pulled  her  mane  of  black  hair  round  upon  his 


I40  THE  CONQUERING  OF  KATE 

arm  and  was  running  his  hand  through  its  magnetic 
meshes.  She  was  passive,  as  if  the  contact  soothed  her, 
but  there  was  a  staring  inquiry  in  her  dark  eyes,  like  that 
questioning  of  an  instinct  that  one  sometimes  sees  in 
a  noble  brute's.  Her  ignorance  of  herself  had  a  passive 
pathos  as  she  tried  to  unravel  and  understand  her  own 
emotions,  but  he  was  entirely  oblivious  of  it. 

"I'd  buy  you  store  clothes,"  he  said.  "Heaps,  yes  I 
would,  and  shiny  shoes,  and  have  a  nigger  waitin'  on 
you,  and  have  your  picter  taken  with  your  hair  done  up." 

She  pulled  her  hair  from  him  with  a  sudden  toss  of 
her  head  and  pushed  his  arm  away.  It  was  an  auto- 
matic recognition  of  the  utter  inadequacy  of  his  answer. 
But  she  still  stared  at  him  with  a  wide,  open,  perplexed 
candour. 

"What  makes  you  so  bilious  with  me?"  he  asked. 
"Who's  the  skunk  that  told  you  I  wanted  to  get  shut  ?" 

"It  wuz  yer  old  man, "she  said  slowly,  concentrating 
her  gaze  as  if  to  catch  whatever  effect  her  words  might 
have. 

"What!"  he  exclaimed,  jumping  up.  "You  seen 
the  Judge?" 

"Sartin'  sure,"  she  replied.  "I  seen  him.  Air  y'r 
scared?" 

He  let  out  an  oath  between  his  teeth  and  turned 
to  go. 

"Whar  y'r  goin'?"  she  asked. 

"Goin'  to  get  my  horse.  You  and  your  brother  can 
hev  it  your  own  way.     I'm  shet. " 

"Be  y'r?"  she  cried,  and  springing  like  a  panther, 
she  came  at  him,  uttering  some  kind  of  an  animal  sound 
between  her  teeth.  So  fierce  was  the  sudden  resolution 
of  all  her  uncertainty  into  something  like  explosive 
action  that  she  covered  the  space  between  them  with  a 


THE  WITCH'S  RUN  141 

bound,  and  projected  herself  upon  him  with  a  wild, 
meaningless  shove,  as  if  she  meant  to  end  her  own  per- 
plexities in  an  impulse  and  hurl  him  and  the  whole 
problem  down  the  Shelf. 

Nimble  as  he  was,  the  impact  took  him  unaware,  and 
he  fell  headlong  as  if  she  had  been  a  catapult,  striking 
his  head  upon  a  projecting  stone.  He  may  have  been 
slightly  stunned.  He  may  only  have  preserved  his 
craft  in  spite  of  the  surprise,  but  he  put  his  hand  to  his 
head  and  groaned  without  attempting  to  rise. 

She  stood  a  moment  half  bent  over  him,  as  if  aston- 
ished at  her  own  violence.  But  the  impelling  forces 
having  expended  themselves,  the  revulsion  was  as  swift 
and  irrational.  Dropping  upon  her  knees  beside  him, 
she  thrust  her  bare  arm  under  his  neck  and,  lifting  his 
head  tenderly,  her  black  hair  falling  tumultuously  all 
about  him,  she  said  wiuli  something  like  a  hot,  passionate 
moan: 

"Fol,  Fol,  I  swar  to  Gourd  I  didn't  mean  to.  You 
be  n't  a  pesky  mean  liar,  be  y'r,  be  y'r  ?  I  didn't  go  fer 
to  do  it.     Honest  Injun,  Fol." 

She  pressed  his  head  up  against  her  bosom  and 
brushed  the  hair  from  his  forehead  softly,  hugging  him 
with  the  involuntary  zest  that  a  child  gives  to  a  doll. 
The  next  moment  she  had  let  his  head  fall  with  sudden 
disregard,  and  jumping  to  her  feet,  strode  off  to  the  edge 
of  the  Shelf,  where  she  stood  with  her  fists  clenched, 
stamping  and  staring  down  into  The  Run  with  big,  wet, 
wondering  eyes.  It  is  with  such  elementary  forces,  not 
yet  arrived  at  an  understanding  of  themselves,  that  men 
sometimes  play  as  with  hidden  fires. 

Folingsby  picked  himself  up,  shook  himself  as  a  dog 
might,  and  brushed  with  his  hand  some  of  the  dirt  from 
his  clothes.     Then  he  strode  off  indifferently  toward  the 


142  THE  CONQUERING  OF  KATE 

shed.  But  something  in  his  stubborn  and  reckless 
nature  changed  his  purpose  and  deflected  his  course. 
He  turned  to  the  house  to  reenter.  In  an  instant  the 
girl  was  close  beside  him  again  and  had  her  clutch  upon 
him. 

" Ef  y'r  goin'  fer  to  stop, "  she  said,  "gimme  the  gun. " 

He  looked  at  her  with  a  cool,  measuring  contempt 
that  hurt  her  strangely. 

"Will  you  tell  me  what  you  said  to  the  Judge?"  he 
asked. 

"Gimme  the  gun,"  she  said,  "and  I'll  tell  y'r  when 
they're  gone.     I  hev  to." 

Then  he  pulled  out  the  pistol  from  his  pocket  and 
gave  it  to  her. 

"I'll  stop,  and  find  out  where  I'm  at  myself, "  he  said, 
as  he  pushed  by  her  somewhat  rudely  and  went  into  the 
house. 


X 


CHAPTER   IX 
Gossamer  Trifles 

Miss  Kate  Bussey,  sitting  in  a  morning  wrap  at  the 
piano  in  the  dusky  parlour,  was  indifferently  feeling 
after  some  strains  of  an  old  song.  It  sounded  now  and 
then  Hke  "The  Banks  of  the  Blue  Moselle."  Her  sister 
Sylvia  was  standing  on  a  chair  at  the  window  trying  to 
coax  the  newly  washed  lace  curtains  into  fresh  lines  of 
grace. 

"If  you  really  want  to  know  what  I  think,"  Sylvia 
said,  "I  will  tell  you.  We  are  behaving  like  two  prison- 
ers who  have  too  much  pride  to  walk  out  of  an  open 
dungeon.     It's  flying  in  the  face  of  Heaven." 

"  How  is  it  ? "  asked  Kate,  still  lingering  on  "The  Banks 
of  the  Blue  Moselle"  and  not  even  turning  round. 
"  We  cannot  fly  in  the  face  of  anything  if  we  do  not  even 
walk  out." 

To  disregard  her  feelings  and  perch  thus  meanly  upon 
her  rhetoric  aggravated  Sylvia  at  once.  She  gave  the 
curtains  a  little  vicious  shake.  "Stop  playing  that 
piano,"  she  cried;  "it  is  so  out  of  tune  that  it  sets  my 
teeth  on  edge. "  But  Kate's  fingers,  slipping  softly  over 
the  keys,  insisted  on  finishing  the  strain  and  seemed  to 
be  whispering: 

"  Yes,  there  I'll  soothe  thy  griefs  to  rest, 
Each  sigh  of  sorrow  quell, 
In  the  starry  light  of  a  summer  night 
On  the  banks  of  the  blue  Moselle." 

143 


144  THE  CONQUERING  OF  KATE 

and  then,  turning  her  face  half  round,  she  said,  as  if 
keeping  time  still  to  the  old  song: 

"Do  you  think  it  is  the  piano,  dear?  What  has 
come  over  you  this  morning?" 

Sylvia  jumped  from  the  chair  and  assumed  an  air 
of  disappointment.  "I  am  tired  of  trying  to  make  old 
things  look  like  new.  I'd  just  like  to  pack  my  trunk — 
if  I  had  anything  to  pack — and  start  somewhere,  any- 
where, so  that  I  could  feel  myself  moving  on  with  the 
rest  of  the  world.  It  makes  me  feel  like  a  tramp,  and  if  I 
only  had  a  pair  of  stout  shoes  I'd  start  this  blessed 
minute.  Look  at  my  slippers.  Do  you  know  what 
they  call  this  place  over  at  the  "Quarries"?  She 
dropped  her  voice  to  an  ominous  whisper — "'The  Old 
Maids'  Paradise' — yes  they  do.  Heavens,  Kate,  every- 
thing in  the  world  is  hurrying  on,  and  I  suppose  we  are, 
too,  without  knowing  it.  I  don't  wonder  the  Judge  is 
discouraged — it's  enough  to  discourage  an  archangel. " 

Having  delivered  this  girlish  broadside,  she  made  a 
dash  at  her  sister,  wound  her  arm  about  her,  and  off 
went  her  impulse  in  another  direction. 

" Dear, "  she  said,  "there  is  no  reason  in  the  world  why 
you  and  I  should  fight  the  inevitable  just  for  the  satis- 
faction of  dying  by  inches.  I  should  think  you  could 
feel  it  as  I  do,  when  the  whole  world  calls  to  us  as  it  does 
this  morning.  It  is  defying  Heaven  to  shut  ourselves  up 
here  and  warn  everybody  away,  while  the  rest  of  the 
world  is  fighting  and  working  and  singing,  trying  to  be 
something  and  do  something. " 

It  was  pretty  to  see  the  growing  unlikeness  of  tempera- 
ments in  these  two  women  melt  their  sharp  corners  in  an 
affection  that  was  like  sunshine.  One  of  them  had 
abandoned  the  window  curtains,  as  if  tired  of  the  utili- 
ties, and  the  other  had  left  the  banks  of  the  blue  Moselle, 


GOSSAMER  TRIFLES  145 

and  together  they  slipped  into  the  bay  and  stood 
entwined  in  the  flickering  light,  not  unlike  the  rose- vine 
and  scarlet  runner  that  leaned  together  from  opposite 
sides  of  the  sash  beyond. 

"You  make  it  sound  as  if  I  stood  in  the  way  of  your 
happiness,"  said  Kate,  "and  you  forget  that  I  was  will- 
ing to  do  anything  to  insure  it. " 

"By  sacrificing  yourself!"  exclaimed  Sylvia.  "Do 
you  think  that  is  the  way  to  go  about  it?  Heaven  be 
praised,  it  didn't  work." 

Kate  put  her  hand  over  her  sister's  mouth — her  arm 
was  around  Sylvia's  neck  and  it  was  easy  to  do  it; 
besides,  she  kissed  her  on  the  forehead  in  a  soft  suppres- 
sive way,  and  the  double  act  of  tenderness  ought  to 
have  silenced  anything  except  ingenuous  impulse  once 
started  on  a  gallopade. 

"  I  cannot  tear  up  the  roots  of  my  affection  for  the  old 
place  so  easily,"  said  Kate.  "It  seems  to  me  as  if  I 
were  under  bonds." 

"Bonds  and  mortgage — you  ought  to  be  correct, 
my  dear.  When  you  speak  about  being  under  it,  you 
talk  like  a  toad  under  a  harrow,  without  spirit  enough 
to  hop  out." 

"Yes,"  replied  Kate,  "it  is  always  so  easy  to  run 
away,  and  sometimes  it  is  cowardly." 

At  this  the  younger  sister  perked  herself  into  a  new 
attitude.  "Well,  if  you  will  tell  me  of  any  duty  which 
you  can  perform  by  staying  here,  and  show  me  that  there 
is  the  least  chance  of  performing  it,  then  I  will  roll  up 
my  sleeves  and  stay  with  you  and  we'll  die  claws  up.  I 
don't  believe  you  listened  to  what  the  Judge  said.  It 
sounded  like  a  sentence  to  me.  We  have  driven  away 
all  the  help  that  came  to  us,  and  the  only  hope  of  getting 
it  back  is  to  go  away  ourselves. " 


146  THE  CONQUERING  OF  KATE 

"Yes,  I  did  listen  to  him,  and  he  said  it  was  too 
•late." 

"He  said,"  retorted  Sylvia,  "that  his  endeavours  to 
save  the  estate  had  been  thwarted.  The  overseer 
person  went  away  because  you  did  not  want  him  here 
and  Aunt  Sussex  virtually  ordered  him  off  the  place. 
Don't  you  see  that  if  we  go  away  he  may  come  back, 
and  he  and  the  Judge  can  fix  up  matters  without  our 
interference?  It's  easy.  All  you  will  have  to  do  is  to 
pack  your  trunk — you  have  something  to  pack  now — 
and  I  will  help  you. " 

But  Kate  did  not  look  at  it  exactly  that  way. 

"  If  I  were  the  cause  of  his  going  away,  it  seems  to  me," 
she  said,  "that  the  least  I  can  do  is  to  bring  him  back 
if  possible.  But  I  fancy  he  is  a  very  vindictive  as  well 
as  a  very  sensitive  person.  I  wonder  if  it  would  please 
the  Judge  if  I  wrote  a  note  of  apology  and  gave  some 
instructions  to  the  person  before  I  went  away." 

Then  Sylvia  laughed  outright.  "If  you  are  going 
to  give  more  instructions,"  she  said,  "let  Aunty  do  it. 
She  has  a  finer  air  of  authority  and  she  did  it  so  well 
before.  It  just  amounts  to  this,  dear — do  you  want  the 
man  back  ?  If  you  don't,  I  wouldn't  bother  with  letters. 
Let  him  go  his  way  and  we'll  all  settle  back  into  our  old 
tune. " 

"I  want  to  do  what  is  best  for  the  place,"  replied 
Kate.     "You  do  not  seem  to  help  me  much. " 

"Do  you  know  why I'm  not  a  man.     I'm  only 

what  dear  old  grandma  used  to  call  a  chit.  But  even 
a  chit  with  its  eyes  open  could  see  from  the  very  start 
X  that  what  this  place  needed  above  all  else  was  a  man, 
and  when  he  arrived,  as  if  Heaven-sent,  we  all  turned 
our  backs  on  him." 

"Very  well,"  said  Kate.     "To  relieve  your  mind  I 


GOSSAMER  TRIFLES  147 

will  write  him  a  note,  if  you  will  let  me  have  some  of 
your  letter  paper. 

When  the  preparations  were  all  complete  they  sat 
down  together  and  in  solemn  consultation,  after  many 
experiments,  succeeded  in  accomplishing  the  following 
compromise : 

"  Miss  Kate  Bussey  desires  to  express  to  Mr.  John 
Burt  her  regrets  at  having  misunderstood  his  intentions 
and  for  having  perhaps  undervalued  his  abiHties.  If 
Mr.  Burt  will  call  at  the  Grange,  Miss  Bussey  will 
explain  more  definitely  what  seems  to  be  called  for  in 
justice  and  courtesy.'* 

Then  Penelly  broke  in  upon  them  and  she  and  Sylvia 
went  off  together. 

While  this  was  going  on  in  the  Bussey  mansion  and 
Aunt  Sussex  Bussey  was  writing  letters  to  New  York 
and  Washington  to  get,  if  possible,  upon  the  trail  of  the 
lost  Mr.  Joumingham,  another  order  of  scene  was  dis- 
closing itself  at  the  Basswood  Spring.  Mr.  John  Burt 
and  his  friend,  Tony  Brahm,  rode  up  to  the  stone  hut 
looking  like  hunters  returned  from  a  long  chase,  hungry 
and  dust-covered  but  exultant  and  loud  withal.  The 
same  morning  sunshine  that  danced  over  the  two  women 
standing  in  the  bay  sparkled  and  flashed  about  these 
two  men.  The  same  dewy  gladness  extended  from  the 
silent  mansion  to  the  noisy  group,  and  so  far  as  environ- 
ment could  effect  anything  everybody  should  have  been 
under  the  same  spell.  But  these  men  were  for  the  time 
being  quite  oblivious  of  the  spell.  What  with  the  shout- 
ing of  Tony,  the  barking  of  dogs,  the  stamping  of  horses 
and  the  scurrying  of  niggers,  there  was  an  unusual  air 
of  riotousness  about  the  place,  to  which  Com  was  add- 


148  THE  CONQUERING  OF  KATE 

ing  a  rhythmic  blazon  somewhere  in  the  trees.  So 
clamorous  and  imusual  was  it  that  Unc'l  Dan'l,  who  had 
been  "bressing  de  Lo'd"  and  listening  to  the  "plunky- 
plunk  "  of  the  banjo,  as  if  it  were  an  answer  to  prayer, 
poked  his  white-and-black  head  out  of  his  door  to  see 
what  had  broken  loose.  For  three  days  the  place  had 
been  given  over  to  its  drowsy  natural  disturbances  and 
to  Corn's  banjo  accompanied  by  his  lusty  voice  singing 
an  old  melody,  the  refrain  of  which  ran : 

"Beautiful  niggers  away, 
Crows  go  to  sleep  when  the  day  comes  on 
Beautiful  niggers  away." 

"Put  that  infernal  thing  up!"  shouted  Tony,  "you 
confounded,  copper-headed  cynocephalus,  and  get  up 
something  to  eat  before  I  murder  you.  Soul  of  my  life, 
I  feel  as  if  my  lumbar  region  had  been  trodden  by  a 
caravan.     How  far  was  it — that  last  stretch?" 

"  Not  more  than  ten  or  twelve  miles, "  said  John  Burt. 
"Look  here — I  seem  to  have  struck  it  fat,  as  they  say," 
and  he  began  turning  over  his  letters  at  the  table. 

"  If  it  is  really  momentous, "  cried  Tony,  fixing  himself 
in  the  rocker,  "why  not  keep  it  till  we  are  replenished? 
I  tell  you  plainly  I  have  no  resisting  power  at  present. " 

His  companion  gave  no  heed  to  him,  but  strode  about 
with  an  open  letter  in  his  hand.  "You  listen  to  this," 
he  cried,  "because  I  must  take  it  at  the  flood. " 

"Very  well;  you  will  not  mind  if  I  throw  a  handker- 
chief over  my  head,"  said  Tony,  "if  I  must  concentrate 
my  faculties,  on  an  empty  stomach — ^besides,  there's  a 

d d  hornet  sailing  about.     Now  go  it,  but  do  tell 

that  nigger  of  yours  to  expedite  the  vulgar  necessities, 
as  you  love  me. " 

The  appeal  was  disregarded  like  the  protest.  Waving 
his  letter,  John  Burt  went  on : 


GOSSAMER  TRIFLES  149 

"Yes,  by  all  the  supematurals,  I  have  been  wondering 
what  shape  my  good  luck  wotdd  assume  if  it  ever  materi- 
alized, and  what  do  you  think  it  is?  My  guardian 
uncle  tells  me  it  is  Wood-Pulp.  You  don't  happen  to 
know  anything  about  wood-pulp,  do  you,  old  boy?" 

"Oh,  keep  it,  keep  it,  till  we  have  had  our  systems 
stiffened.  Irony  on  a  depleted  organization  is  injury 
plus  insult. " 

"Wood-pulp!"  shouted  Burt.  "I've  heard  of  sugar 
plantations  and  coffee  crops  without  evincing  any  con- 
tempt. Will  you  listen  to  wood-pulp  a  moment  with 
respect?" 

With  the  letter  before  his  eyes,  John  Burt  continued 
to  stride  about,  mingling  exclamations  with  passages 
from  the  written  page,  making  a  rather  incoherent 
summary.  "*I  am  now  able  to  give  you  a  tip  that 
ought  to  make  your  fortune,'  writes  my  gorgeous  uncle. 
'See  prospectus  enclosed.  In  twenty  years  the  whole 
press  of  the  country  will  depend  upon  wood-pulp.'  Are 
you  listening  to  this,  Tony?  'We  shall  be  capitalized 
at  one'  million,  and  are  going  to  spend  that  amount  in 
snatching  all  the  spruce  timberlands  within  reach 
before  our  operations  wake  up  competition.  You  will 
abandon  all  other  projects  and  give  your  immediate 
attention  to  this  without  making  public  our  operations. 
See  enclosure  marked  C ;  report  of  wild  land  commission- 
ers of  Pennsylvania.  Prompt  action  is  desirable  so  as  to 
get  possession  of  the  valuable  supply  prior  to  any  State 
action  or  public  distrust  of  our  corporation.  (See 
Smithsonian  pamphlet  marked  D  on  timberlands  of 
U.  S.)  It  will  be  necessary  for  you  to  have  your  head- 
quarters at  some  telegraphic  centre  where  there  are 
banking  facilities  and  we  can  keep  in  touch  with  you  by 
wire  as  well  as  mail.'" 


ISO  THE  CONQUERING  OF  KATE 

Here  John  Burt  took  a  long  breath  and  looked  at 
Tony.  The  silk  handkerchief  ovqt  that  gentleman's 
face  rose  rhythmically  in  bubbles  over  his  mouth  and  a 
comfortable  purring  sound  issued  from  beneath.  He 
was  fast  asleep.  His  companion,  with  the  letter  still  in 
his  hand,  strode  upon  him,  tore  away  his  handkerchief, 
and  struck  what,  for  him,  was  an  unusually  dramatic 
attitude. 

"See  here,  Mr.  Tony  Brahm,  when  I  came  to  Witt^m- 
burg  and  you  were  preparing  for  your  last  gasp,  did  I 
put  a  handkerchief  over  my  head  and  snore  in  the  face 
of  your  necessities  with  a  supernatural  indifference?" 

"Soul  of  my  honour,  you  did  not,  my  boy — you 
behaved  yourself  with  proper  decorum.  But  suppose 
you  had  found  me  jumping  about  in  a  wild  delirium 
bawling  wood-pulp.  I  think  you  would  have  been  justi- 
fied in  closing  out  the  unseemly  spectacle,"  and  Tony's 
handsome  blue  eyes  opened  wide  and  a  radiant  smile 
spread  itself  over  his  pink  countenance.  "Have  you 
come  to  Wittemburg  again  or  do  you  want  me  to  come  ?  " 

"My  dear  fellow,"  said  Burt,  waving  the  letter,  "this 
is  an  overwhelming  avalanche  of  fortune.  It  makes 
Cuba  itself  possible  and  I  must  have  a  little  capital 
right  off." 

Tony  executed  a  careful  yawn.  "Confound  your 
unnecessary  and  headlong  impatience — it  isn't  necessary 
to  have  it  before  breakfast,  is  it  ?  My  pocketbook  is  in 
the  breast  pocket  of  my  coat  there  on  your  peg,  and  my 
check-book  as  well.  All  you  had  to  do  was  to  fill  out 
what  you  wanted.  I  put  a  handkerchief  over  my  face 
so  as  not  to  see  what  you  did.  It  wasn't  necessary 
to  wake  me  up  and  become  an  Indian.  You  knew 
very  well  I  wouldn't  examine  the  checks  even  when 
I    sighted    them — you    beastly    superfluous    Dervish. 


GOSSAMER  TRIFLES  151 

Between  you  and  the  d^— — d  hornet  I  couldn't  get  even 
forty  winks. " 

Then  Tony  beamed  like  Apollo,  and,  Corn  having 
announced  their  breakfast,  he  got  up,  shook  himself  like 
a  mastiff,  got  his  golden  head  into  a  pail  of  spring  water, 
and  coming  out  like  a  sunflower,  the  two  men  sat  down 
to  their  meal,  John  Burt  still  clinging  to  wood-pulp 
tenaciously,  and  Tony,  as  his  system  became  mollified, 
listening  with  amiable  wonder. 

"Then  we  break  camp  at  once?"  he  said.  "I'll 
return  to  my  quarters  in  the  city  and  wait  for  you  to 
round  up  the  wood-pulp  and  join  me,  is  that  it  ?" 

"That's  it  exactly,  and  there's  no  time  to  be  lost.  If 
I  do  not  own  five  hundred  acres  of  spruce  timber  in  less 
than  forty-eight  hours,  and  if  I  don't  double  on  the  price 
of  it,  leave  me  to  die  in  the  mountains.  Six  months  of 
wood-pulp,  and  I  start  on  the  same  Cuban  plane  with  you, 
or  I  am  a  born  duffer. "  He  was  so  full  of  it  that  when 
Pierson  came  in  bringing  Miss  Kate  Bussey's  letter  he 
read  it  between  estimates  and  wood-pulp  predictions 
and  then  wrote  a  hurried  answer  and  gave  it  to  the  man, 
thinking  no  more  about  it  at  the  time.  Both  men  then 
gave  themselves,  as  the  two  women  had  done  at  the 
Grange,  to  the  contemplation  of  an  immediate  flitting. 
On  one  side  were  boxes  of  Cuban  statistics  and  photo- 
graphs and  descriptive  pamphlets,  and  on  the  other  a 
box  of  wood-pulp  literature.  Strewn  about  in  unassorted 
confusion  were  other  pamphlets,  newspapers  and  blanks 
to  which  the  men  now  gave  their  packing  attention, 
John  Burt  sitting  down  at  a  little  table  near  the  window 
and  studying  each  document  as  he  placed  it  in  his  box; 
Tony,  a  little  more  leisurely,  sweeping  together  the 
papers  on  the  larger  table.  It  was  all  settled  now. 
Circumstances  had  determined  it  for  them.     There  was 


152  THE  CONQUERING  OF  KATE 

nothing  now  to  do  but  to  get  the  things  together,  find 
out  about  the  trains  and  bid  good-by  to  Catalpa  Grange. 

But  what  gossamer  trifles  derail  such  carefully 
coupled  trains.  Two  small  incidents  intervened — 
floated  so  naturally  and  uneventfully  in  on  man's  pro- 
posing that  no  one  could  have  suspected  them  of  being 
in  any  way  determinative.  While  Burt  sat  there  at  the 
window  his  friend  had  gone  to  his  coat  and  was  searching 
for  his  check-book.  Burt  heard  him  growling  and  asked 
him  what  was  the  matter.  "  Have  you  lost  your  pocket- 
book?" 

"No,"  said  Tony.  "But  I  had  a  newspaper  in  that 
pocket.  I  bought  it  in  town  yesterday.  It  had  an 
awful  account  of  a  steamship  wrecked  in  the  Indian 
Ocean.  The  passengers  were  twenty  days  without  food 
and  had  to  eat  the  cook.  I  wanted  to  read  it  to  that 
young  woman  in  mousseline  de  laine.  I  fancy  the 
sickening  details  would  delight  her  soul." 

This  conversation  was  cut  short  by  the  sudden  arrival 
of  Judge  Heckshent,  who  had  seen  the  horsemen  come 
back,  and  had  ridden  over  to  say  good-by  to  his  over- 
seer and  to  fall  into  the  ample  arms  of  Mr.  Tony  Brahm, 
who,  stretched  at  full  length  in  linen  dishabille,  was 
enjoying  the  coolness  of  the  retreat  and  digesting  his 
breakfast.  It  needed  but  a  flourish  of  the  hand  and 
Mr.  Brahm  and  Judge  Heckshent  went  off  into  a  remi- 
niscent discussion  of  the  Busseys,  Mr.  Brahm's  cunning 
volubility  fitting  itself  instantly  to  the  Judge's  reminis- 
cent mood.  He  asked  a  thousand  questions.  Some  of 
them  seemed  at  that  time  to  John  Burt  to  be  strangely 
trivial,  for  they  related  to  family  connections  and  dates 
and  intermarriages ;  but  the  amiable  Judge  was  touched 
in  a  soft  spot  when  the  antecedents  of  the  Busseys  was 
the  topic,  and  his  companion  was  not  slow  to  perceive  it. 


GOSSAMER  TRIFLES  153 

Then  the  second  incident  fluttered  in.  As  usual  it 
was  in  mousseline  de  laine  and  wore  a  red  Garibaldi. 
John  Burt,  looking  up  from  the  depths  of  wood-pulp  at' 
the  window,  saw  it  flitting  and  fluttering  at  Unc'l  Dan'l's 
cabin,  accompanied  by  another  damsel  who  was  no  less 
than  Penelly  Seton.  In  another  moment,  as  he  thus 
stared,  he  saw  that  the  Judge  and  Mr.  Brahm  had 
crossed  the  swale  and  approached  the  young  women. 

Penelly  had  uttered  an  exclamation  of  surprise  as 
she  saw  them  coming,  and  it  bore  the  sound  of  "butter 
and  eggs,"  as  I  live.  A  formal  introduction  by  the 
Judge  put  matters  on  a  new  footing,  and  Tony  came  at 
the  Garibaldi  with  overwhelming  affability. 

"Miss  Bussey, "  he  said,  giving  his  big  Panama  hat  a 
sweep  as  if  it  were  plumed  and  he  were  in  Castile,  "I 
feel  that  I  owe  you  an  apology.  I  have  just  learned 
that  I  am  on  the  historic  groimd  of  the  Busseys  of 
Virginia  and  that  an  old  friend  of  my  family,  Miss 
Sussex  Bussey,  is  here.  I  hope  you  will  understand 
that  it  was  my  ignorance  that  prevented  me  from  pay- 
ing my  respects  to  that  estimable  representative  of  one 
of  the  oldest  and  most  honoured  families  of  Virginia. " 

Poor  little  fluttering  heart  of  girlhood.  Sylvia  looked 
up  into  a  handsome  face  that  was  beaming  down  at  her 
with  an  entirely  new  and  masterful  kind  of  devotion, 
and  saying  something  that  was  not  exactly  intended 
for  the  group.  Without  knowing  it,  she  moved .  with 
him  a  little  apart.  His  politeness  seemed  to  be  set  to 
some  kind  of  music  that  she  had  not  hitherto  heard,  but 
which  she  recognized. 

"Are  you  then  a  friend  of  the  family ? "  she  asked  with 
an  innocent  surprise,  as  if  friends  of  the  family  were 
rarities  not  to  be  held  at  bay  by  mere  prudery. 

"  I  should  be  honoured  to  join  the  list  of  friends,  but 


154  THE  CONQUERING  OF  KATE 

as  yet  I  am  only  an  acquaintance.  Why,  your  mother 
was  a  Toland — one  of  the  Tolands  of  Frederick.  Her 
brother,  Captain  Abner  Toland,  married  a  Stuyvesant 
and  built  the  Toland  house  in  Albany.  I  have  seen  a 
picture  in  it  of  your  grandmother — a  historic  picture  of 
a  historic  woman.  The  descendants  of  Kate  Bussey,  I 
should  say,  need  never  want  for  friends  in  Pennsylvania 
or  Virginia.  I  shall  never  forgive  myself  for  not  having 
paid  my  devotions  to  your  aunt  at  once." 

"I  am  sure,"  said  Sylvia,  scarce  knowing  what  she 
said,  "that  my  aunt  will  be  delighted  to  welcome  a 
friend  of  the  family.  We  do  not  see  many  of  them 
down  here  now." 

"How  fortunate  that  you  came  over  before  we  got 
away — you  know  we  are  going  North  in  a  day  or  two. " 

"We  came  over  to  see  our  old  servant,  Unc'l  Dan'l," 
said  Sylvia.  "Your  friend,  Mr.  Burt,  moved  him  here. 
He  is  a  wizard.  *' 

"Isn't  he?"  rejoined  Tony.  "He  just  says  'presto,' 
and  stones  and  sticks  and  niggers  fall  into  line.  Our 
time  is  so  short,  if  you  do  not  mind  I  will  walk  back  with 
you  and  pay  my  respects  to  your  aunt.  I  have  a  letter 
of  introduction,  though  that  is  hardly  necessary  if  I  go 
with  you,  and  I  may  not  have  another  opportunity. " 

[I  believe  the  villain  had  made  the  Judge  write  it 
before  they  came  out  of  the  cabin.!) 

All  this  would  have  been  startling  from  any  other 
mouth  than  Tony's.  It  came  so  roundly  and  graciously 
from  his  that  Sylvia  accepted  it  without  question.  He 
seemed  of  most  extraordinary  proportions  to  her,  and  to 
be  uttering  the  platitudes  of  civility  in  gentle  organ 
tones,  and  as  he  insisted  on  walking  back  with  her  to  be 
presented  to  the  aunt  she  could  not  for  the  life  of  her 
repel   such    voluminous    and   grandiose    politeness;   so 


GOSSAMER  TRIFLES  155 

when  Judge  Heckshent  bade  him  good-by  at  the  foot 
of  the  slope,  Sylvia  conducted  him  to  the  portico  and 
there  hurled  him,  so  to  speak,  in  all  his  towering  magni- 
ficence, against  the  fragile  and  astonished  Aunt  Sussex, 
and  there  he  lingered,  leaving  John  Burt  to  gather  the 
papers  that  had  been  left  behind  and  to  fasten  them 
down  on  the  table  with  tomato  cans  and  ink  bottles 
and  pieces  of  rock,  so  that  wood-pulp  would  not  become 
inextricably  mixed  with  coffee  plantations  at  every 
gust  of  wind. 


CHAPTER  X 
The  Triumph  of  Weakness 

As  Sylvia  came  up  the  steps  with  her  visitor,  Aunt 
Sussex,  in  a  suspensory  condition  between  astonishment 
and  resistance,  came  out  of  the  hall  door.  But  Sylvia 
flew  at  her  like  a  melting  southern  breeze. 

"Aunty,  here  is  an  old  acquaintance  of  the  family, 
Mr.  Tony  Brahm,  with  a  letter  of  introduction.  He  has 
come  to  pay  his  respects  to  the  Busseys  through  you. 
He  is  stopping  over  in  Bourgeonville  for  a  day  or  two. 
The  Judge  has  just  introduced  him  to  me. " 

"Have  I  the  honour  of  speaking  to  a  Bussey?"  asked 
Tony  most  deferentially, 

"My  aunt.  Miss  Sussex  Bussey,"  said  Sylvia. 

"Madam,  I  salute  you.  I  could  not  leave  Bourgeon- 
ville without  offering  my  respects  to  the  representative 
of  one  of  the  most  famous  and  honoured  of  Virginia's 
families.  I  need  not  tell  you  that  your  name  and 
character  are  household  words  in  three  States.  Permit 
me,"  and  he  gallantly  offered  her  one  of  the  heavy 
chairs  and  waited  for  both  of  them  to  be  seated. 

"I  am  pleased  to  meet  a  friend  of  the  family,"  said 
Aunt  Sussex  with  much  dignity.  "There  are  not  many 
of  them  left. " 

"Ah,  there  you  mistake,  madam,  I  assure  you. 
You  do  the  family  great  injustice.  It  will  be  a  long 
time  before  the  virtues  of  Kate  Bussey  or  the  chivalrous 
record  of  Colonel  John  Fairfax  are  erased  from  the 
memories  of  a  grateful  people. " 

156 


THE  TRIUMPH  OF  WEAKNESS  157 

"Where  have  I  heard  the  name  of  Brahm?"  asked 
Aunt  Sussex  tentatively. 

"It  may  be  associated  in  your  mind  along  with  the 
Tolands  in  the  illustrious  record  of  the  burning  of 
Havre  de  Grace  in  181 2.  I  lost  a  grandfather  there. 
Or  it  may  occur  to  you  associated  with  the  name  of 
Colonel  Abner  Toland,  Or  you  may  recall  Ira  Brahm 
as  one  of  the  staunch  supporters  of  Henry  Clay.  I 
believe  he  and  Madam  Kate  Bussey  were  correspondents 
in  that  early  struggle.  I  had  often  heard  you  spoken 
of,  but  somehow  fell  into  the  mistake  that  you  had 
removed  to  Tennessee.  You  cannot  imagine  how 
delighted  I  am  to  set  foot  on  this  historic  place  and 
find  you  here,  preserving,  I  dare  say,  the  traditions  and 
the  honours  as  they  should  be  preserved  in  our  degenerate 
days — of  the  ancient  regime." 

"I  thank  you,"  said  Aunt  Sussex.  "It  is  not  an  easy 
task  to  keep  unblemished  the  traditions  of  our  fathers, 
but  I  pride  myself  that  the  Busseys  remain  staunch 
to  the  noblest  examples  of  their  family.  I  wish  Kate 
were  here.     She  has  gone  off  for  a  walk," 

Mr.  Brahm  plunged  into  the  genealogy  and  chronology 
of  the  Busseys  with  adroit  finesse,  pouring  his  emollient 
graciousness  over  any  suspicions  that  his  companion 
toight  have  felt.  He  distributed  his  beaming  courtesy 
upon  the  two  ladies  so  impartially,  and  gave  so  much 
weight  to  Aunt  Sussex's  mature  observations,  that  the 
old  lady  was  completely  disarmed,  and  to  Sylvia's 
secret  delight  she  went  so  far  as  to  purringly  invite 
Mr.  Brahm  to  stay  to  tea,  a  request  that  he  put  aside  with 
a  refulgent  excuse  and  a  promise  to  make  them  a  more 
formal  visit  before  leaving  the  neighbourhood.  His 
evident  intent  to  be  politely  enamoured  of  Aunt  Sussex 
only  filled  Sylvia  with  admiration,  and  she  could  not  help 


158  THE  CONQUERING  OF  KATE 

thinking  what  a  bungler  John  Burt  had  been.  Here 
was  a  man  whose  tact  was  of  a  superior  order — he  parried 
the  dame's  curiosity  so  cleverly,  so  smothered  her 
inquiries  with  compliments,  that  it  was  evident  to  Sylvia 
that  if  he  wished  he  could  have  the  run  of  the  house. 

When  he  got  up  to  go,  and,  after  delivering  a  fine 
eulogium  on  the  noble  outlook,  stood  a  moment  in  the 
road  apparently  perplexed  as  to  which  path  he  should 
take,  Aunt  Sussex  said,  "You  had  better  show  him 
the  road  through  the  wood,  Sylvia,"  and  that  young 
woman,  with  an  entirely  new  quirk  of  hypocrisy,  was 
transformed  in  a  moment  into  his  guide  and 
companion. 

"I  think,"  he  said,  as  he  found  her  at  his  side  entering 
the  wood,  "that  I  can  find  my  way.     I  usually  do." 

"Yes,"  said  Sylvia,  "that  is  very  evident.  This  way 
is  not  so  difficult  as  the  other.  Still,  I  will  show  you 
the  highway.     It  will  please  Aunt." 

He  laughed  softly.  "She  is  well  worth  pleasing," 
he  said.  "Besides,  it  is  always  the  easier  way.  You 
see,  my  friend  Jack  has  no  finesse — only  a  noble, 
straightforward  sincerity.  If  he  cannot  bolt  through  a 
difficulty,  he  never  wastes  time  in  going  round  it.  He 
and  your  aunt  would  have  got  along  famously  if  they 
had  only  stopped  to  consider  each  other." 

"It  was  unfortunate,"  said  Sylvia.  "He  could  have 
been  of  great  service  to  us." 

"True,  true ;  but  that  is  past  now.  I  am  going  to  carry 
him  off  on  my  yacht — fly  away  with  him  to  the  West 
Indies  and  put  him  under  a  course  of  training." 

"Are  you  really?"  exclaimed  Sylvia  with  girlish 
surprise.  "You  didn't  tell  Aimty  that.  How  disap- 
pointed she  will  be." 

"Do  you  think  so?     By  Jove,  Miss  Bussey,  I  wish  I 


THE  TRIUMPH  OF  WEAKNESS  159 

could  take  her  and  her  family  with  me  for  a  summer 
cruise.     How  it  would  brighten  up  her  spirits." 

"Yes,"  said  Sylvia;  "Aunty  needs  brightening  up  so 
much." 

He  laughed  heartily.  "Such  is  the  perversity  of  fate," 
he  said.  "One  must  become  deeply  interested  in  her 
just  as  he  is  going  away.  Do  you  quite  understand 
that  it  makes  the  going  a  little  harder?  It  some- 
times looks  as  if  one  meets  the  friends  that  one  is 
searching  for  just  at  the  moment  of  saying  good-by. 
Isn't  it  abominable — just  as  a  person  has  so  many 
things  to  say,  too.  There's  the  highway,  Miss 
Bussey.  You  had  better  go  back.  I  can  pick  my 
way  easily  now." 

"Yes,"  she  said,  "there  is  your  road,"  and  she  stood 
still,  as  if  the  sentence  needed  his  completion. 

"Au  revoir,"  he  said  gallantly  and  buoyantly,  seizing 
her  hand;  "I  am  coming  to  take  tea  with — your  aunt. 
We  shall  revel  in  old  times,  and  be  as  jolly  as  if  we  had 
known  each  other  for  years,  and  then,  hurrah  !  boys,  we 
are  off  across  the  blue  waves.  God  bless  you,  Miss 
Bussey." 

When  the  ladies  of  the  house  came  together  not  long 
after,  Kate  looked  with  some  surprise  at  the  cheerful 
faces  of  her  aunt  and  sister.  "Dear,"  she  said,  "you  look 
as  if  you  had  been  tuned." 

"I  have,"  responded  Sylvia  promptly.  "An  old 
friend  of  the  family  has  been  here  and  cheered  us  up. 
You  should  have  been  present." 

"I  have  been  thinking  of  Judge  Heckshent,"  she  said, 
"and  it  worries  me.  I  believe  I  will  walk  over  and 
inquire  after  him." 

"Do,"  said  Sylvia.  "I  am  going  out  to  the  kitchen 
to  superintend  some  preparations  for  to-morrow.   Aunty 


i6o  THE  CONQUERING  OF  KATE 

in  her  glee  has  committed  the  unpardonable  sin  of 
asking  the  stranger  to  tea." 

Kate  then  set  off  down  the  hill.  Sylvia's  parting 
words  whispered  in  her  ear  were,  "Cheer  up,  dear;  you 
have  put  your  pride  in  your  pocket,  and  the  letter  to 
Mr.  Burt  will  fix  up  everything.  Don't  worry  any 
more.  I  feel  that  he  will  come  flying  at  your  first 
beckon  and  Providence  will  take  care  of  the  rest." 

Just  as  Kate  reached  the  gateway  on  the  public  road, 
Pierson  came  up  and  placed  John  Burt's  reply  in  her  hand 
and  went  on  up  the  hill.  She  opened  and  read  it  as  she 
stood  there  at  the  entranceway: 

"Mr.  John  Burt  accepts  Miss  Bussey's  apologies  and 
would  on  no  account  subject  her  to  the  trouble  of  making 
them  more  explicit,  but  begs  to  remain  with  the  heart- 
iest wishes  for  the  future  of  the  estate,  her 

"  Obedient  Servant." 

She  read  it  twice  as  if  incredulous  of  its  blunt  import. 
Then  in  an  impulse  of  resentment  she  tore  the  paper 
into  bits  and  cast  them  from  her  with  an  inimitable 
and  final  gesture  of  disdain,  and  with  a  sudden  spot  of 
colour  in  her  white  cheek,  as  if,  indeed,  John  Burt  had 
struck  her,  she  moved  away  among  the  trees,  and  before 
she  was  aware  of  it  came  opposite  the  Judge's  house, 
which  was  on  the  other  side  of  the  road. 

In  the  momentary  spasm  of  humiliation  and  resent- 
ment occasioned  by  what  appeared  to  her  to  be  a  con- 
temptuous rebuff,  her  desire  to  see  the  Judge  shaped 
itself  into  something  like  a  determination.  Mrs.  Heck- 
shent  in  her  flaring  sunbonnet  was  moving  in  her  garden 
among  the  flowers,  and  Kate,  with  some  trepidation, 
crossed  the  road  and  came  up  to  the  gate. 


THE  TRIUMPH  OF  WEAKNESS  i6i 

"Mrs.  Heckshent,"  she  said,  "I  came  over  to  inquire 
after  the  Judge's  health.  He  was  quite  poorly  when  I 
saw  him." 

Mrs.  Heckshent  straightened  herself  and  looked  out 
of  the  depths'  of  her  sunbonnet  at  her  visitor  with 
mingled  surprise  and  gratification — surprise  that  she 
would  dare  to  come  so  near  after  what  had  passed 
between  them,  and  gratification  that  she  had  evidently 
been  compelled  to  come.  Her  narrow  dark  face  imbedded 
in  the  scoop  bonnet  looked  a  trifle  more  concentrated 
and  shadowy  than  usual. 

"The  Jedge  ain't  no  worse,"  she  said,  without  approach- 
ing the  gate.  "Leastways,  I  ain't  heard  of  anything 
that  makes  us  worry  unusual  over  this-  way.  We're  not 
stewin'  over  a  cold." 

"Can  I  see  him?"  asked  Kate. 

Mrs.  Heckshent  drew  in  her  breath  between  her 
teeth.     There  must  be  some  new  anxiety  at  the  Grange. 

"No,"  she  said;  "you  can't  see  him  here,  'cause  he 
ain't  to  home.     I  calculated  he  was  on  the  Rise." 

Her  curiosity  rather  than  her  civility  made  her  take 
two  or  three  steps  nearer  the  gate. 

"The  overseer's  done  shut,"  she  said.  "Did  you  want 
to  know  suthin'  'bout  the  new  one?" 

"The  new  overseer?"  asked  Kate  with  surprise.  "Is 
there  a  new  one?" 

"I  calculate  there  will  be,  seein' that  the  order  of  the 
Court  stands  good  and  this  on6  leaves  when  he  gets 
tired.     Mebbe  t'other  one  won't  tire  so  easy." 

"I  was  not  aware,"  said  Kate,  somewhat  helplessly, 
"that  another  overseer  had  been  thought  of." 

"Well,  then,  he  has  been,"  replied  Mrs.  Heckshent, 
with  what  Kate  thought  was  a  slight  air  of  superior 
advantage,  "and  I  don't  mind  sayin'  it  to  your  face,  he 


i62  THE  CONQUERING  OF  KATE 

ought  to  hev  been  thought  of  in  the  first  place,  because 
as  things  is  goin'  now  he  comes  to  it  natural  like,  and 
might  as  well  be  gittin'  his  hand  in." 

There  was  no  part  for  Kate  in  this  blunt  vulgarity. 
Its  coarse  directness  of  implication  stunned  her  a  little, 
and  she  drew  herself  together  as  she  said:  "Will  you 
kindly  mention  to  the  Judge  that  I  called?  Good- 
morning."  Then  she  moved  away,  somewhat  confused 
and  not  yet  so  keenly  alive  to  the  lurking  animosity  of 
it  all  as  to  take  it  as  a  covert  threat  and  become  indig- 
nant at  it.  But  as  she  reached  her  own  wood  and  went 
slowly  through  the  trees  the  full  import  of  it  became 
more  clear.  Mrs.  Heckshent  must  have  heard  in  some 
way — she  did  not  know  how,  nor  was  her  confidence  in 
the  Judge  so  fragile  as  to  make  her  beUeve  he  had  told  her 
— of  Mr.  Joumingham's  default.  It  was  not  likely  that 
the  woman  would  be  coimting  on  her  son  becoming  the 
overseer  if  something  had  not  told  her  that  Mr.  Jouming- 
ham  no  longer  stood  in  the  way.  It  was  really  within, 
the  possibilities  of  the  case  that  Mrs.  Heckshent  would 
have  her  own  way  in  the  matter.  The  Judge  had  virtu- 
ally thrown  up  the  task,  and  he  was  under  the  tongue, 
if  not  the  influence,  of  this  tireless  woman.  Kate's 
imagination  forecast  in  a  flash  the  intolerable  domina- 
tion and  impertinence  of  Folingsby's  authority,  and  as 
she  passed  the  spot  where  she  had  torn  up  John  Burt's 
letter  and  saw  the  fluttering  bits  in  the  grass  she  said 
with  intense  bitterness,  "And  I  almost  begged  that  man 
to  come  to  my  assistance." 

It  looked  to  her  at  that  moment  as  if  all  the  good 
angels  of  the  place  had  deserted  her,  and,  face  which 
way  she  might,  she  met  nothing  but  decrepitude,  ignoble 
resentment  and  impertinence. 

In  this  state  of  mind  she  met  her  sister  coming  down 


THE  TRIUMPH  OF  WEAKNESS  163 

the  hill  in  search  of  her,  very  much  like  a  stream  that 
had  burst  forth  in  the  shadowy  trees  and  was  taking 
its  wa)rward  and  singing  course  down  the  declivity. 
But  the  blitheness  of  the  younger  woman  all  vanished 
as  she  saw  something  had  happened  to  Kate.  Kate  told 
her  with  all  the  allowable  colouring  of  wounded  feelings, 
and  Sylvia,  in  spite  of  her  sympathy,  came  in  her  head- 
long way  to  an  instant  and  practical  conclusion. 

"We  must  get  those  surveys  and  plans  of  Mr.  Burt's," 
she  said.  "The  Judge  will  never  stickle  over  the  pos- 
session of  them  and  Mrs.  Heckshent's  monkey  cannot 
do  a  thing  without  them.  After  all,  dear,  our  united 
brains  ought  to  be  sufficient  to  checkmate  that  stupid 
woman  at  every  turn." 

Lady  as  Kate  was,  she  was  still  human  enough  to  feel 
a  momentary  desire  to  baffle  Mrs.  Heckshent.  But 
how  to  obtain  possession  of  the  plans?  She  was  done 
with  that  man  now — ^had  already  suffered  all  that  she 
could  stand  from  his  arrogance.  In  this  new  dilemma 
Aunt  Sussex  was  not  of  the  slightest  utility.  Her 
mature  advice  utterly  failed  to  console  Kate,  for  it 
amounted  to  nothing  more  than  the  assurance  that  the 
arrival  of  Mr.  Joumingham  would  straighten  everjiihing 
out. 

Then  the  unexpected  occurred.  The  very  next  morn- 
ing Kate  came  upon  Mr.  John  Burt  in  the  wood  by  the 
.  river  where  she  was  wandering  aimlessly.  He  had 
been  in  the  saddle  all  night,  and  when  she  encountered 
him  he  was  stretching  his  legs  and  leading  his  horse. 
They  came  face  to  face  in  the  path  and  stared  at  each 
other  somewhat  indeterminately.  John  Burt,  after 
saluting  the  lady  with  dignity,  would  have  passed  on, 
but  nerved  by  some  kind  of  desperation  she  said : 

"Mr.  Burt,  may  I  speak  to  you  ?" 


i64  THE  CONQUERING  OP  KATE 

He  looked  at  the  beautiful  face  and  graceful  figure 
suddenly  risen  up  before  him  so  like  an  apparition 
and  replied,  with  honest  surprise  and  something  like 
obeisance : 

"Why  not,  Miss  Bussey." 

"My  endeavour  to  do  so  yesterday  was  a  humiliating 
failure." 

She  could  not  help  noticing  the  frank  astonishment 
as  he  said:  "I  beg  your  pardon — humiliating,  did  you 
say  ?  I  endeavoured  to  save  you  from  any  humiliation, 
as  well  as  myself.  You  asked  me  to  come  to  your  house. 
You  surely  cannot  be  so  ungenerous  yourself  as  to  blame 
me  for  declining  to  revisit  it,  if  you  are  aware  of  what 
passed  when  I  last  called  there." 

"I  regret  very  much,  sir,  that  I  did  not  see  you  when 
you  first  called.  I  can  readily  understand  that  my 
aunt's  peculiarities  would  be  mistaken  for  incivility. 
But  it  was  not  my  fault." 

"Then  I  beg  of  you  that  you  will  make  no  further 
mention  of  it,"  said  John  Burt.  "I  have  been  detained 
here  for  a  few  days  by  an  unexpected  matter  of  business. 
Is  there  any  way  in  which  I  can  be  of  service  to  you 
before  I  go?" 

This  straight  pioneer  cut  through  all  irrelevant 
matters  to  the  very  subject  matter  that  she  had  not 
the  spirit  to  lay  hold  of  affected  her  at  the  moment, 
though  she  was  not  conscious  of  it  till  afterward,  like 
a  strong,  soft,  virile  hand  suddenly  thrust  through 
inexplicable  tangles.  She  could  not  help  seeing,  as  he 
stood  there  not  five  feet  away,  that  he  was  fagged.  His 
mud-bespattered  animal,  limp  and  spiritless,  his  soiled 
and  scratched  garments,  and  awry  soft  hat  pulled  out  of 
all  shape,  as  if  he  had  been  holding  it  on  in  some  kind 
of  charge,  made  up  a  picture  of  forces  to  which  she  was 


THE  TRIUMPH  OF  WEAKNESS  165 

a  stranger;  and  yet,  there  was  that  in  his  straight,  lithe 
figure  and  unsubdued  determination  of  expression  that 
surmounted  all  with  a  suggestion  of  invincible  disregard 
of  physical  obstacles.  He  seemed  to  her  somewhat 
confused  vision  to  be  of  some  other  order  than  hers — to 
have  been  plunging  somewhere  through  the  night  and 
all  its  obstacles  while  she  and  hers  were  sleeping  and 
complaining.  Her  accidental  encounter  with  him  had 
caught  him  as  he  plunged  resolutely  on. 

"Mr.  Burt,"  she  said  slowly  and  softly,  as  if  trying 
not  to  attach  too  much  importance  to  her  request,  "I 
understand  that  you  have  made  surveys  and  estimates 
of  improvement,  and  I  thought  that,  as  you  are  going 
away  and  they  could  be  of  no  further  use  to  you, 
you  might  let  me  see  them.  I  should  even  like  to  ask 
your  advice  in  some  matters,  if  it  would  not  take  too 
much  of  your  valuable  time. " 

"  Such  plans  and  estimates  as  I  have  prepared  belong, 
I  suppose,  to  Judge  Heckshent,"  he  said.  "I  dare  say 
he  will  place  them  at  your  disposal,  but  I  doubt  that 
they  will  be  at  all  intelligible  to  you  without  my 
explanation." 

"What  would  your  time  be  worth,  Mr.  Burt,  to 
explain  them  to  me?  I  am  beginning  to  learn  how 
valuable  it  is." 

He  gave  her  a  quick  inquiring  glance.  Was  it  possible 
that,  like  her  aunt,  she  must  preface  her  business  with 
her  disdain  and  irony. 

"  Do  you  think  it  necessary  to  say  that?"  he  inquired, 
"when  I  so  promptly  placed  my  time  at  your  disposal 
when  I  came?" 

"  Oh,  if  you  still  wish  to  punish  me  for  my  misunder- 
standing or  my  stupidity,  why,  I  can  say  no  more. " 

And  she  caught  at  her  skirt.     In  another  moment  she 


i66  THE  CONQUERING  OF  KATE 

would  have  turned  her  back  on  him  and  vanished  if  he 
had  not  been  quick,  and  he  had  an  irresistible  desire  to 
keep  her  there  a  little  while  longer. 

"Nothing  can  be  further  from  my  intent,"  he  said. 
"My  impulse  from  the  start  was  a  generous  one.  The 
estate  appealed  for  just  the  kind  of  help  that  I  could 
offer.  It  seemed  to  me  a  worthy  task  to  redeem  it,  and 
I  suppose  the  mistress  felt  as  I  did.  You  must  think 
me  either  a  most  vindictive  or  a  most  superior  person, 
but  there  are  plenty  of  good  men  better  equipped  than 
I  am  to  carry  out  your  wishes.  I  can  only  regret  that 
it  is  too  late  for  me  to  make  the  attempt. " 

"Do  you  not  see,  Mr.  Burt,  that  you  are  punishing 
me  by  making  it  too  late  ? " 

This  staggered  John  Burt  a  little.  It  was  said 
demurely,  and  the  absurdity  of  punishing  anything  so 
helpless  and  beautiful  made  him  smile. 

"I  cannot  conceive  of  such  a  thing,"  he  aaid.  "I 
believe  I  possess  the  ordinary  virtues  of  an  ordinary 
man. " 

"Do  you  include  magnanimity  among  your  virtues? 
You  could  do  me  a  service  that  would  cost  you  nothing, 
and  you  hesitate.  You  make  me  humiliate  myself  in 
asking  for  it,  and  it  is  such  a  little  thing. " 

"Perhaps  I  have  not  understood  it.  You  wish  me  to 
give  you  the  result  of  my  examination  of  this  property 
and  place  my  plans  before  you.  I  could  not  do  it  in  a 
moment.  The  whole  matter  is  a  practical  industrial 
problem.  We  are  so  differently  constituted  and  so 
unlike  that  I  doubt  if  you  would  see  it  with  my  eyes. 
If  I  thought  you  would  or  even  desired  to,  I  should  cer- 
tainly take  pleasure  in  placing  all  the  results  of  my 
experience  before  you." 

"I  can  try,"  said  Kate  with  refulgent  humility. 


THE  TRIUMPH  OF  WEAKNESS  167 

"Then, "  said  John  Burt,  "  I  suppose  that  I  shall  have 
to  remember  that  on  this  place  everybody  obeyed  you 
until  I  came,  and  try  to  obey  you  myself. " 

"Would  it  cost  you  too  much?" 

"What  it  would  costume  is  of  no  consequence.  I  am 
bound  to  think  what  it  would  cost  the  place." 

"Perhaps  you  think  it  wovdd  be  better  for  the  place 
if  I  obeyed  you." 

"  I  certainly  do, "  he  replied,  making  a  bow. 

She  bit  her  lip  softly.  She  was  piqued  and  interested. 
"Does  the  man  want  me  to  get  down  on  my  knees  to 
him  ?  "  she  asked  herself.  She  had  turned  her  face  a  little 
away  as  if  to  avoid  his  direct  and  practical  superiority, 
and  the  action  brought  out  her  beautiful  profile,  white  and 
clear-cut,  against  the  background  of  dark-green  along 
the  river.  It  smote  him  with  a  sudden  pity  for  her — at 
least,  that  is  what  he  called  it. 

"I  suppose,"  he  said,  "that  it  sounds  a  little  harsh. 
But  I  think,  Miss  Bussey,  that  I  am  entitled  to  be 
understood.  If  you  will  listen  to  me  a  moment  I  will 
try  and  explain  myself.  Judge  Heckshent  took  especial 
pains  to  inform  me  when  I  came  here  that  he  was  under 
some  kind  of  fealty  to  your  father  to  redeem  the  place 
for  you,  and  he  sought  to  do  so  without  inflicting  any 
injustice  to  his  own.  He  seemed  to  be  as  anxious  as 
you  can  be  to  retain  the  place  in  the  family,  and  he  asked 
me  to  look  ib  all  over  with  the  single  view  of  making  it 
productive.  The  more  I  saw  of  it  the  less  I  thought  of 
the  Judge's  contract  with  me  and  the  more  I  thought 
of  what  Nature  herself  would  pay  me  in  lending  her  a 
helping  hand.  I  discovered  soon  enough  that  you  did 
not  understand  the  matter  and  were  not  likely  to  listen 
to  any  explanations  from  me.  In  fact,  you  virtually 
ordered  me  off  the  place  and  told  me  that  you  were  th^ 


i68  THE  CONQUERING  OF  KATE 

mistress  of  it.  Do  you  think  I  was  punishing  you  in 
obeying  you?  There  was  only  one  way.  Either  you 
or  I  must  be  mistress  or  master  of  the  measures,  and 
you  settled  that  imperatively.  You  are  the  mistress, 
and  I  acknowledge  it." 

His  persistence  in  holding  to  this  view  of  it  stung  her 
a  little  even  while  it  did  not  lessen  her  respect  for  him. 

"Yes,"  she  said,  "I  can  see  that  what  has  occurred 
has  made  it  impossible  for  us  to  agree.  Still,  I  am  glad 
that  I  have  heard  you,  sir.  I  was  afraid  that  I  had 
unwittingly  done  you  some  injustice.  It  is  a  relief  to 
know  that  it  is  the  other  way." 

"That  I  have  treated  you  unjustly?" 

"Almost  brutally.  You  found  a  woman  absolutely 
ignorant  of  what  was  required  of  her,  and  you  never 
forgot  her  helplessness  and  her  mistake.  It  was  singu- 
larly unlike  the  manliness  that  I  have  been  accustomed 
to.  I  was  informed  that  you  were  going  away  or  I 
should  not  have  sent  for  you.  I  humbled  myself  to 
apologize  and  beg  a  small  favour  of  you,  and  you  nursed 
your  little  wrong  and  thought  of  nothing  but  yourself. 
If  you  will  let  me  pass,  Mr.  Burt,  I  will  go  on  my  way. " 

Such  a  finality  sounded  a  little  dismal.  As  to  which 
of  them  should  do  the  kneeling  was  now  becoming  a 
matter  of  finesse.  In  another  moment  the  white  face 
would  have  passed  on  and  out  of  his  vision  forever,  and 
the  moment  before  it  had  come  dreamily  close  to  him 
with  something  like  an  appeal.  She  had  drawn  herself 
up  to  the  full  puissance  of  her  dignity  and  taken  a  step 
or  two,  looking  straight  ahead,  when  he  said: 

"Miss  Bussey,  our  ways  lie  in  opposite  directions,  but 
I  should  dislike  to  go  mine  and  feel  that  I  had  not 
treated  you  fairly.  You  must  see  that  I  can  no  longer 
fiave  any  motive  for  either  wounding  or  deceiving  you. 


THE  TRIUMPH  OF  WEAKNESS  169 

In  a  few  days  we  shall  be  hundreds  of  miles  apart.  If 
before  I  go  I  can  be  of  the  least  service  to  you  or  to  the 
estate,  you  have  but  to  command  me.  I  am  not  in  the 
habit  of  taking  orders  from  others,  but  I  think  I  could 
take  them  from  you  with  the  humility  that  you  seem  to 
think  is  necessary." 

She  turned  quickly.  "Why  do  you  speak  of  my 
orders?     Is  it  because  I  asked  a  favour  of  you?" 

"No.  It  is  because  I  prefer  your  orders.  They 
become  you  better.  I  should  much  rather  obey  you 
than  excuse  you,  if  I  could  first  instruct  you  in  what 
you  do  not  seem  to  understand — your  own  domain." 

This  melted  her  a  little.  "It  was  for  your  instruc- 
tion," she  said,  "that  I  was  asking.  I  am  still  the 
nominal  mistress  of  the  place.  If  you  will  bring  your 
map  to  the  house  this  afternoon  and  instruct  me,  I  will 
try  and  shield  you  from  the  violence  of  the  household. " 

"I  am  going  to  Chambersburg  this  afternoon,"  he 
said  quite  coolly,  "and  shall  not  be  back  till  the  last 
train  to-night." 

The  man  was  evidently  a  brute.  Chambersburg 
indeed  !  when  the  lady  of  the  Grange  held  her  door  open. 

"  Oh,  suit  yourself, "  she  said  with  piquant  indifference. 
"When  you  find  an  idle  moment,  perhaps  you  will 
consider  my  invitation." 

He  did  not  waver,  "The  first  idle  moment  will  be  in 
the  morning,"  he  said.  "I  will  call  upon  you  then  and 
bring  the  papers."  Then  they  bowed  very  formally. 
He  grasped  his  horse's  bridle  and  they  went  different 
ways. 

It  was  with  some  unpleasant  recollections  that  John 
Burt  found  himself  the  next  morning  once  more  in  the 
old  parlour  with  its  candelabra  and  rose  bay.  Somehow 
it  looked  a  little  brighter  than  before.     Whether  it  was 


170  THE  CONQUERING  OF  KATE 

the  fresh  curtains  or  his  own  fancy  he  did  not  know,  nor 
did  he  have  to  wait  long.  Kate  came  promptly  to  the 
door  and  rewarded  him  for  his  obedience  with  a  smile  of 
gracious  dignity. 

By  every  precedent  made  and  provided,  he  ought  to 
have  been  a  little  nervous  and  awkward.  But  he  was 
not.  It  was  all  plain  sailing  with  him.  In  a  few  days 
they  would  have  forgotten  each  other,  and  this  little 
incident  of  business  was  to  be  gone  through  as  quickly 
as  possible.  It  was  his  plain  duty  to  be  matter  of  fact 
and  brief. 

"I  have  brought  a  map  of  the  place,  Miss  Bussey," 
he  said;  "if  you  will  move  some  of  the  articles  from  the 
table  I  will  spread  it  out. " 

She  picked  up  some  of  the  books  while  he  was  unroll- 
ing the  map,  and  then  she  sat  down  at  a  safe  distance. 

"If  you  will  step  here,"  he  said,  "I  will  point  out  to 
you  the  lines. " 

She  came  obediently  over  and  placed  herself  by  his 
side. 

"The  estate,"  he  continued,  "is  put  down  as  con- 
taining a  thousand  acres,  but  the  survey  shows  a  thou- 
sand and  ten.  That  is  the  line  of  the  northern  boundary. 
Deducting  thirty-seven  acres  of  timber  on  the  highway, 
sixty  acres  on  the  bluff  and  twenty  acres  of  scrub  on  the 
wet  land,  there  are  practically  eight  hundred  and  eighty- 
three  acres  of  arable  land,  most  of  which  is  in  fairly  good 
condition  for  field  crops." 

She  was  leaning  over  so  close  beside  him  that  he  could 
feel  the  warm  glow  of  her  body,  and  at  this  matter-of- 
fact  preludium  she  drew  herself  up  and  looked  at  him 
with  a  pleasant  smile  of  incredulity. 

"Was  it  your  idea  to  turn  the  place  into  a  farm?" 
she  asked. 


THE  TRIUMPH  OF  WEAKNESS  171 

"Yes,  in  part.  I  calculate  it  will  require  an  income 
of  $20,000  a  year  to  keep  a  park  of  a  thousand  acres 
up  to  elegant  idleness. " 

She  stared  at  him  with  an  expression  of  blank  dismay. 

"And  no  farm  will  furnish  that  in  Franklin  County," 
she  said  with  a  pleasant  despair. 

"Hardly,"  he  replied  with  a  smile.  "So  I  would 
reduce  the  park  ruthlessly." 

"Yes,"  she  murmured,  repeating  the  word  "ruth- 
lessly" as  if  it  had  a  singular  appropriateness. 

She  sat  down  as  if  a  little  embarrassed  how  to  pro- 
ceed. Mr.  Burt  seemed  to  her  at  that  moment  to  be 
almost  grim  in  his  practicality,  and  yet  something 
seemed  to  whisper  to  her  that  it  was  through  such  a  rude 
door  that  escape  from  present  embarrassments  might  be 
possible. 

"  I  wish  you  would  tell  me,  Mr.  Burt, "  she  said,  "  what 
a  poor  woman  like  myself,  with  no  experience  and  no 
resources,  can  do?" 

* '  No  one  can  be  said  to  be  absolutely  poor  or  without 
resources  so  long  as  she  can  command  this  domain, "  he 
replied. 

"Ah,"  she  said,  looking  at  him  in  spite  of  herself 
with  some  kind  of  wondering  admiration,  "you  speak 
like  a  man. " 

"Yes,  I  presume  I  do,  and  it  is  as  a  man  that  my 
speaking  can  be  of  any  value  to  you.  If  you  did  not 
speak  and  act  like  a  woman,  Miss  Bussey,  I  fancy  that 
a  man  would  miss  much  of  the  incentive  to  serve  you." 

This  was  the  first  time  that  anything  like  a  compli- 
ment had,  to  her  ears,  fallen  from  him,  and  even  now 
it  was  coupled  with  an  intimation  not  so  much  of  her 
strength  as  of  her  weakness,  and  she  was  partially  aware 
that  for  the  first  time  her  weaknesses  did  not  bridle  as 


173  THE  CONQUERING  OF  KATE 

they  should.  She  was  even  conscious  that,  in  spite  of 
herself,  those  weaknesses  had  evinced  an  entirely  new 
inclination  to  exhibit  themselves. 

It  embarrassed  him  a  little  to  be  diverted  from  the 
plain-sailing  details  of  his  plan.  After  a  moment's 
hesitation  he  plunged  ahead  again.  "Did  you  ever 
think  of  selling  the  place.  Miss  Bussey?" 

"Never,"  she  replied  with  unnecessary  emphasis;  "but 
I  suppose  you  know  I  may  not  be  able  to  prevent  its 
being  sold." 

"Yes,  I  understand  that  it  is  encumbered.  That  is 
an  incidental  disadvantage  attaching  to  many  noble 
estates.  Does  it  occur  to  you  that  the  proper  thing  is 
to  disencumber  it  as  soon  as  possible?" 

At  this,  innocent  imbecility  opened  its  eyes  wide,  as 
if  she  had  come  into  the  presence  of  a  conjurer  slowly 
rising  from  the  ruins  of  a  devastator. 

Then  the  conversation  seemed  to  come  to  a  conclusion, 
and  John  Burt,  not  having  anything  else  to  say  at  the 
moment,  remarked: 

"I  regret  that  I  know  of  no  person  that  I  could 
recommend  as  a  practical  agent  in  the  matter  of 
improvement." 

"I  wish  you  did,"  she  said  candidly.  "I  am  so 
wofully  ignorant  of  how  to  go  about  my  duty  in  the 
matter  that  I  think  I  should  prize  such  a  person,  though 
I  fear  I  should  not  be  able  to  pay  him." 

John  Burt  had  it  on  the  end  of  his  tongue  to  say  that 
any  practical  person  would  ask  no  better  pay  than  to  be 
prized  by  her.  But  it  was  too  risky,  and  he  walked  to 
the  window  and  looked  out  on  the  grove. 

"By  the  way,"  he  said,  trying  to  fill  in  the  gap  of 
silence,  "that  is  a  fine  piece  of  old  timber  running  south 
along  the  road  from  the  house."     He  came  to  the  table 


THE    TRIUMPH    OF    WEAKNESS         173 

and  laid  his  finger  upon  the  map.  "There  are  thirty- 
seven  acres  of  it,  containing  many  fine  beech,  oak, 
elm  and  ash  trees,  but  they  are  being  choked  to  death 
by  the  chestnuts  and  gums.  To  save  that  valuable  part 
of  the  estate,  I  would  cut  out  two  or  three  hundred 
chestnuts  and  let  the  light  and  air  in  on  what  ought  to 
be  a  beautiful  grove  instead  of  a  tangle.  It  is  a  shame 
to  see  it  smothering  itself  to  death." 

"Dear  me,"  said  Kate,  "and  I  have  nobody  to  look 
after  these  things." 

"So  far  as  the  grove  is  concerned,  perhaps  I  can  look 
after  that  for  you.     It  is  a  very  small  job." 

"Will  you?" 

"Certainly,  if  you  desire  it." 

Whereupon,  Practicality,  having  come  to  the  end  of 
its  tether,  began  to  roll  up  the  map,  but  she  put  her 
hand  on  it. 

"You  are  going  to  leave  it  with  me."  she  said.  "I 
want  to  study  it." 

When  he  was  gone  a  sly  smile  played  about  her  face. 
It  seemed  to  her  that  feminine  weakness  had  not  entirely 
discredited  itself.  She  had  the  papers  and  John  Burt 
had  gone  forth  with  her  first  commission.  As  she  sat 
there  wondering  if  she  were  not  entitled  to  a  little  self- 
gratulation,  Sylvia  bounced  in. 

"What  in  the  name  of  wonder  was  Aunty  doing  over- 
head w^hile  we  were  talking?  I  never  heard  such  a 
disgraceful  racket.  It  sounded  as  if  she  were  moving 
furniture." 

"She  was  pulling  out  her  trunks  to  find  her  traveling 
boots,"  replied  Sylvia.  "I  think  she  must  have  seen 
the  overseer  come  in,  and  she  was  going  straight  to 
Tennessee." 

"Good  gracious  !"  exclaimed  Kate. 


174  THE  CONQUERING  OF  KATE 

"But  I  stopped  her,"  Sylvia  cried. 
"How  did  you  do  it?" 

"I  reminded  her  that  she  had  invitad  Mr.  Brahm  to 
tea." 


CHAPTER  XI 
"Plum    Honey" 

When  John  Burt  left  the  Grange  he  proceeded  directiy 
to  Judge  Heckshent's  house,  where  he  found  that 
gentleman  lying  down. 

"I  wish  to  consult  you,  Judge,"  he  said,  "on  a  little 
affair  of  the  Busseys'." 

The  Judge  got  up.  "I  will  walk  down  the  road  a  bit 
■vyith  you,"  he  whispered,  and  when  they  were  a  short 
distance  from  the  house  John  Burt  went  on  with  his 
explanation. 

"I  have  just  been  over  at  the  Grange  and  had  a  talk 
with  Miss  Kate  Bussey.  She  was  apologetic  and  quite 
helpless.  With  your  permission  I  can  do  her  a  little 
favour.  Here's  this  timber  needs  thinning  out.  I  can 
sell  two  or  three  hundred  chestnut  poles  as  they  stand 
for  cash  to  the  telegraph  company  which  is  about  to 
extend  its  lines  to  Piatt's  Mills.  They  ought  to  be  worth 
a  dollar  a  stick.  I  wanted  your  permission  to  make 
the  deal." 

"My  dear  Burt,"  said  the  Judge,  putting  his  hand  on 
the  young  man's  shoulder  and  grasping  his  hand,  "you 
make  it,  and  put  the  proceeds  in  my  hands  for  her. 
The  wood  will  be  benefited." 

John  Burt  pulled  out  his  memorandum  book  and  a 
fountain  pen,  "You  had  better  give  me  an  authorization," 
he  said. 

The  Judge  wrote  a  few  lines  on  the  pad. 

175 


176  THE  CONQUERING  OF  KATE 

As  the  young  man  was  not  in  the  habit  of  letting  the 
grass  grow  under  his  feet,  he  went  at  once  to  the  con- 
tractor, closed  a  deal  that  saved  that  contractor  from 
pulling  his  poles  five  miles,  came  back  to  the  grounds 
with  a  man,  spent  the  afternoon  picking  and  marking 
the  trees,  and  in  the  morning  sent  a  note  to  the  Judge, 
enclosing  three  hundred  dollars,  with  a  request  that  he 
transmit  it  to  his  client  with  the  proper  explanation. 

When  Kate  Bussey  opened  the  letter  she  foimd  that 
it  contained  the  following  postscript: 

"The  young  man  says  that  if  you  have  no  immediate 
use  for  the  money  he  can  double  it  for  you.  I  advise  you 
to  let  him  do  it.     He  is  a  wonder." 

Then  she  wrote  a  brief  acknowledgement  and  added 
to  it,  "Please  inform  Mr.  Burt  that  his  advice  is  too 
profitable  to  be  neglected  and  that  I  shall  wait  his  further 
orders  through  you."  This  was  signed  Kate  Bussey. 
She  sent  the  letter  and  the  roll  of  bills  to  the  Judge  at 
once. 

There  was  much  impetuosity  about  John  Burt  for  a 
day  or  two  and  he  gave  his  friend  Tony  no  end  of  dis- 
comfort. After  plunging  about  between  Chambersburg 
and  Bourgeonville  in  the  most  rabid  manner,  he  finally 
settled  down  to  take  breath  for  an  hour  or  two. 

"I  have  been  doing  a  little  trick  of  business  for  Miss 
Bussey,  and  I  am  sending  her  $650.  You  are  quite 
right — I  feel  like  an  operator.  If  I  had  a  wire  in  here 
I'd  be  more  comfortable." 

When  his  letter  and  money  came  back  from  the 
Judge,  the  letter  saying  that  it  would  be  well  to  explain 
to  Miss  Bussey,  John  Burt  called  himself  a  dunder- 
headed  ape  and  set  out  immediately  for  the  Grange. 


"PLUM  HONEY"  177 

He  reached  it  in  the  twilight.  A  soft  dusky  glow  in  the 
west  made  the  place  shadowy  in  a  pensive  light.  The 
hall  door  stood  wide,  and  at  the  farther  end  of  the  hall 
a  white  figure  was  standing  with  its  back  to  him.  The 
sound  of  his  steps  made  it  turn,  and,  tinted  by  the 
melancholy  flush  of  the  twilight,  Kate  came  toward 
him. 

"Miss  Bussey,"  he  began  at  once,  with  much  more 
eagerness  than  was  usual  with  him,  "I  deserve  your 
reprimand.  Had  I  stopped  to  think,  I  might  have  known 
that  there  is  a  proper  as  well  as  an  improper  way  of 
executing  a  duty  for  a  lady.  If  you  will  sit  down  a 
moment  I  will  explain  matters  to  you  concerning  the 
transaction." 

He  pulled  round  one  of  the  heavy  chairs  and  she 
seemed  to  float  into  it  speechless.  Then  he  began  an 
explanation  and  traveled  rapidly  over  a  great  deal  of 
ground,  Miss  Bussey  trying  to  follow  him  and  accepting 
much  that  he  said  without  understanding  it.  She 
stopped  him  before  he  had  gone  very  far,  saying : 

"If  you  will  excuse  me  a  moment,  sir,  I  will  fetch  a 
mantle  from  the  hall  table.  The  air  is  growing  slightly 
damp  here." 

He  shot  into  the  hall  before  she  had  time  to  rise. 
Matters  were  thus  falling  into  their  proper  relations. 
Practicality  danced  attendance  and  Beauty  accepted  it 
unconcernedly.  He  put  the  mantle  about  her  shoulders 
as  daintily  as  if  it  had  been  an  opera  cloak,  and  con- 
gratulated himself  that  he  had  won  a  new  privilege  as 
his  fingers  came  in  contact  with  her  shoulders.  Much 
of  the  enterprise  of  which  he  was  for  the  moment  so 
full  presented  but  a  very  vague  idea  to  her,  but  she 
accepted  the  fact  that  it  must  be  very  important  because 
he  said  it  was,  and  she  meekly  expressed  a  wish  that 


178  THE  CONQUERING  OF  KATE 

she  might  have  more  capacity  and  a  better  knowledge 
of  the  business  world. 

Then  it  was  that  he  told  her  that  he  should  be 
delighted  to  show  her  some  of  the  resources  of  her 
immediate  neighbourhood.  "I  think,"  he  said,  "that 
you  ought  to  acquaint  yourself  with  the  opportunities 
of  this  country  because  you  may  be  able  to  avail 
yourself  of  them  to  your  great  benefit." 

"What  would  you  suggest,  Mr.  Burt?"  she  asked. 

"I  would  suggest  that  you  ride  over  part  of  the  ground 
and  see  for  yourself.  I  am  in  a  position  to  point  out  to 
you  some  of  the  advantages  before  I  go,  and  I  think  you 
ought  to  know  of  them  before  some  one  else  uses  the 
knowledge ;  or,  if  you  prefer,  I  will  give  Pierson  instruc- 
tions to  accompany  you  and  explain  further  when  you 
come  back." 

No — she  did  not  prefer  that.  "If  it  is  a  matter  of 
business,  I  think  I  can  summon  resolution  enough  to 
undertake  it,"  she  said. 

He  had  succeeded  in  convincing  her  with  paper  and 
pencil  that  her  money  had  been  invested  legitimately 
and  that  she  was  already  in  a  fair  way  to  be  a  business 
woman,  and  this  assurance  no  doubt  made  her  feel  that 
it  would  not  do  to  let  go  of  the  opportunities  that 
were  offering. 

When  he  was  gone,  she  went  up  to  her  room,  and 
throwing  the  packet  on  the  table  where  the  bills  swelled 
and  bulged  out  in  full  view,  she  walked  about  nervously 
and  wondered  at  the  new  escape  that  seemed  to  be 
opening  to  her.     In  that  condition  Sylvia  caught  her. 

"Kate,"  she  said,  "I  don't  want  to  annoy  you,  but 
what  am  I  going  to  do  for  some  clothes  ?  Aunt  Sussex 
says  she  is  drained,  and  I  suppose  she  is,  poor  thing,  but 
I  can't  wear  that  mousseline  de  laine  all  next  winter,  and 


"PLUM  HONEY"  179 

I've  stuck  to  that  red  Garibaldi  until  I  feel  like  last 
year's  woodpecker  when  I  go  out  of  the  house." 

"You  have  my  sympathy,"  said  Kate;  "you  always 
have.     I  give  it  to  you  freely." 

"I  know  you  do,  dear;  it  is  as  old  as  my  Garibaldi, 
and  I  want  something  new.  Dear  me,  I  wonder  if 
women  were  made  only  for  sympathy." 

"Sympathy  and  clothes,"  replied  Kate,  turning  away 
from  the  window. 

"As  if  ever  they  went  together  anywhere  but  in  a 
hospital." 

"You  must  not  forget,"  said  Kate,  "that  we  are 
women  and  have  no  initiative.  We  must  learn  sooner 
or  later  that  we  cannot  have  our  own  way." 

"I  shall  never  learn  it,"  said  Sylvia,  "and  I  don't 
believe  you  can." 

"Oh,  yes,  I  am  learning  slowly.  I  cannot  have  my 
way  even  with  my  own  inclinations.  I  am  not  even 
mistress  of  my  preferences.  I  used  to  think  I  was  a 
free  agent  and  foolishly  imagined  I  was  exercising  my 
own  will." 

"And  so  you  did.     We  are  all  monuments  of  it." 

"No.  I  never  had  my  own  way.  I  invited  this  one 
and  he  never  came." 

"Heaven  be  praised  !  "  said  Sylvia. 

"I  banished  that  one,"  continued^ Kate,  "and  he 
stayed." 

"Glory  !  "  said  Sylvia. 

"I  could  not  even  have  my  way  with  my  own  hates. 
I  am  an  automaton." 

"No,  dear;  you  are  only  blue,  and  automatons  never 
are  blue,  I  am  sure.  Cheer  up,  sister.  You  shall  hate 
anybody  you  please  except  me.  You  can  always  hate 
the  overseer,  you  know." 


i8o  THE  CONQUERING  OF  KATE 


"That's  it.     I  have  tried  my  best  to " 

"Well?" 

"I  am  not  to  be  permitted  to." 

Sylvia  began  to  laugh.  "Don't  hate  him,"  she  said, 
"if  he  isn't  worth  the  trouble,  and  come  back  to  the 
Garibaldi.     What  am  I  going  to  do?" 

"You  will  have  to  buy  yourself  some  new  dresses,  I 
suppose.     There's  the  money  on  the  table." 

Sylvia  jumped  to  the  table  and  turned  over  the  roll  of 
bills  with  a  mingled  gasp  of  horror  and  delight. 

"Wherever  did  it  come  from?     What  does  it  mean?" 

"It  means  that  I  am  a  business  woman.  I  never 
wanted  to  be,  but  I  can't  help  myself.  I  have  been 
speculating  in  land." 

"Whose  land?" 

"I  haven't  the  faintest  idea — I  never  have." 

"Is  it  all  yours?" 

"No.     Some  of  it  is  yours.     Help  yourself." 

There  were  several  sufficient  reasons  why  Miss  Kate 
Bussey  consented  two  days  later  to  have  her  side-saddle 
put  upon  John  Burt's  black  horse  and  accompany  that 
gentleman  in  a  gallop.  First  of  all,  a  new  desire  to  see 
and  know  something  of  the  possibilities  of  the  neigh- 
bourhood had  taken  possession  of  her.  She  acknowl- 
edged grudgingly  that  she  had  neglected  the  practical 
side  of  her  opportunities,  and  here  was  an  expert  who 
could  point  them  out.  A  woman  in  her  position  should 
have  independence  enough  to  accompany  her  overseer 
and  let  him  know  her  orders.  It  was  high  time  that  she 
assumed  some  of  the  spirit  of  a  mistress. 

To  this  desire  was  added  another,  equally  operative, 
but  which  would  not  have  been  so  frankly  acknowledged. 
A  dash  into  the  dewy  morning  on  a  spirited  horse  once 
more  seemed  to  be  in  some  inexplicable  way  like  the 


'TLUM  HONEY"  i8i 

recovery  of  a  lost  privilege.  A  new  zest  was  awakened 
in  her  as  she  saw  from  her  window  Pierson  holding  the 
two  animals  in  front  of  the  porch  and  tightening  her 
saddle  girth  under  the  direction  of  John  Burt. 

Aunt  Sussex  assisted  her  with  the  old  riding-habit, 
exercising  a  discreet  reserve,  as  one  will  whose  principles 
are  shocked  but  whose  affection  is  undisturbed. 

John  Burt  stood  there  in  the  road  with  his  field-glass 
over  his  shoulder,  looking  very  trim,  erect  and  matter- 
of-fact-like,  as  became  a  servitor  about  to  perform  a 
routine  duty,  and  as  the  mistress  came  out  he  greeted 
her  with  an  easy  and  tmperturbed  respect.  But  when 
he  assisted  her  to  mount,  saw  her  take  her  seat  as  if  bred 
to  it,  bending  herself  gracefully  and  confidently  to  the 
sudden  motion  of  the  alert  animal  and  showing  a  face 
suddenly  lit  with  exhilaration  and  pleasure,  he  could 
not  utterly  ignore  the  feeUng  of  admiration  that  stirred 
under  all  his  matter-of-fact  respect. 

So  they  rode  away  across  the  fields  into  the  radiant 
and  musical  morning,  coming  out  on  the  highway  half 
a  mile  northward  from  the  Grange  and  climbing  the  ascent 
that  led  up  past  the  Quarries  and  over  Round  Top.  For 
some  distance  Kate  took  the  lead.  She  had  John  Burt's 
horse  and  she  gave  free  rein  to  the  animal's  impulse,  her 
companion  following  like  her  squire  at  a  respectful  dis- 
tance. But  this  could  not  last  long.  While  she  was 
familiar  with  the  road  she  exulted  in  the  motion,  leaving 
Mr.  Burt  to  take  care  of  himself.  Presently,  as  they 
entered  the  wilder  and  less  familiar  country,  she  dropped 
back  to  his  side  and  began  to  ask  questions. 

"I  know  this  road,  Mr.  Burt,  very  well,  as  far  as  the 
Lookout  Ledge,  having  ridden  over  it  many  times  with 
my  father.  Its  wild  beauty  was  always  a  delight 
to  me." 


i82  THE  CONQUERING  OF  KATE 

"The  Ledge  is  just  ahead  of  us,"  said  John  Burt. 
"Beyond  that  the  mountainside  is  almost  inaccessible. 
I  am  going  to  ask  you  to  go  a  little  farther  than  the 
Ledge  so  that  I  can  point  out  to  you  the  stretch  of  timber 
in  the  Black  Valley.  As  the  path  is  narrowing,  I  think 
perhaps  I  had  better  ride  ahead  of  you" — and  suiting 
the  action  to  the  word,  he  passed  on,  his  companion 
following  him  obediently,  and  now  having  for  the  first 
time  an  opportunity  to  observe  how  easily  and  master- 
fully he  identified  himself  with  the  animal's  movement. 

"The  Lookout  Ledge  is  here,"  he  said.  " Do  you  care 
to  stop  a  moment  upon  it?" 

"Yes,  by  all  means,"  she  replied  eagerly.  "It  is  so 
long  since  I  have  enjoyed  it." 

"Had  we  not  better  dismount?" 

"  No.  I  think  not.  We  need  only  approach  the  edge 
of  the  trees  and  look  through." 

But  to  reach  the  projecting  plateau  of  rock  that  shut 
out  from  the  mountainside  and  overhung  the  valley 
beneath  they  must  turn  and  go  through  the  tangle  of 
laurel  and  wild  vines,  under  gnarled  and  interlacing 
branches.  This  accomplished,  and  coming  to  the  shelf 
of  moss-covered  granite,  so  like  a  platform,  before  either 
of  them  could  utter  a  word  of  surprise  at  the  resplendent 
picture  that  burst  upon  them  something  sprang  up 
from  the  rock  and  startled  both  horses.  John  Burt 
seized  the  bridle  of  Kate's  horse  with  an  iron  grip  and 
prevented  the  animal  from  backing  wildly  into  the 
branches,  and  the  next  moment  both  riders  were  on 
their  feet  trying  to  make  out  what  it  was  that  had 
occurred. 

Looking  through  the  fretwork  of  boughs  upon  the 
bright  space  beyond,  they  saw  standing  on  the  ledge  in 
an  attitude  of  wonder  and   surprise  a  picturesque  and 


"PLUM  HONEY"  183 

wild  female  figure  that  seemed  to  have  risen  out  of  the 
rocks.  She  looked  somewhat  exaggerated  against  the 
sparkling  background.  Her  black  hair,  swept  back  from 
her  head,  was  filleted  with  a  piece  of  twine  and  thence 
fell  in  an  unkempt  mass  down  her  back.  She  stood 
erect  with  a  statuesque  uncouthness,  one  hand  in  the 
bosom  of  her  coarse  dress  where  she  had  thrust  something 
out  of  sight,  and  the  other,  gathering  the  skirt  as  for 
flight,  showed  a  pair  of  heavy  rubber  boots  on  her  legs. 

"What  are  you  doing,  girl  ? "  asked  John  Burt.  "You 
have  given  our  horses  a  scare." 

She  looked  from  one  to  the  other  of  the  intruders  with 
a  slow,  visual  measurement. 

"  Youse  be  from  the  Grange,"  she  said,  as  if  answering 
her  own  inquiry.     "I  be  up  from  the  Quarries." 

"  Oh,"  said  John  Burt,  backing  the  horses  carefully  to 
the  road  again.  "Suppose  you  stay  in  the  trees  and 
keep  your  eyes  on  the  animals.  We  want  to  look  at  tha 
Valley  from  the  rocks." 

He  fastened  the  horses  in  an  open  space  and  came 
back  to  Kate.  The  girl  obeyed  him  and  disappeared 
among  the  trees,  not,  indeed,  to  keep  her  eyes  on  the 
animals,  but  to  watch  with  greedy  wonderment,  through 
the  tangle,  every  movement  of  the  strangers,  herself 
unobserved. 

Familiar  as  the  outlook  was  to  Miss  Bussey,  it  had 
never  before  worn  such  a  sparkling  amplitude  or  spread 
itself  in  such  inspiring  recessions  of  colour.  John  Burt 
unbuckled  his  field-glass  and  handed  it  to  her.  She 
did  not  immediately  avail  herself  of  it,  but  held  it  in  her 
gloved  hand,  saying: 

"I  suppose  the  view,  beautiful  as  it  is,  must  affect  us 
in  wholly  unlike  ways.  It  always  did  make  me  shrink 
a  little  with  its  vastness  and  its  unconquerable  wildness." 


i84  THE  CONQUERING  OF  KATE 

"Don't  say  unconquerable,"  replied  John  Burt. 
"Man  already  has  his  insatiate  eye  upon  it,  and  it  must 
come  obediently  under  his  ax  and  pick.  There  are  not 
many  tracts  like  this  where  he  has  not  already  blazed 
his  way.  But  so  far  he  has  been  mainly  intent  in  getting 
at  the  minerals,  oil  and  coal  and  iron,  and  where  they 
have  disappointed  him  he  has  abandoned  his  possessions. 
It  is  by  availing  myself  of  this  neglect  that  I  was  led  to 
operate  in  a  small  way  myself.  This  would  make  a  fine 
outlook  for  a  summer  hotel  or  a  sanitarium.  With  that 
glass  you  can  sweep  twenty  miles  through  the  gorge 
there." 

She  resented  the  industrial  estimate  of  it.  "For  my 
part,"  she  said,  "  I  should  be  content  to  have  it  remain 
forever  as  Nature  has  planned  it." 

"And  so  it  would,  undoubtedly,"  said  John  Burt, 
"if  Nature  had  not  made  somebody  to  possess  it  and  use 
it.  Nature  does  not  believe  in  having  things  remain 
forever  as  they  are.  Notice  those  bright  green  patches 
on  that  moimtainside." 

"Yes — they  serve  to  show  her  love  of  variety  and 
colour." 

"They  show  where  she  burned  out  thousands  of 
acres  of  fine  timber  several  years  ago.  That  is  the 
new  crop  that  looks  so  bright,  but  it  will  take 
twenty  years  to  mature  it.  It  is  the  timber  I  am 
interested  in." 

"And  I  am  not  practical  enough  to  estimate  anything 
but  the  beauty.  I  am  afraid  you  will  find  me  of  very 
small  account  in  such  matters." 

"The  scenery  is  much  grander  three  or  four  miles 
farther  north,  where  the  Black  Ravine  enters  this  valley 
at  right  angles,"  he  observed.  "But  I  have  not 
approached  it  from  this  direction,  and  am  doubtful  of 


"PLUM  HONEY"  185 

the  way.  Once  there,  however,  we  can  take  the  Pike 
back  to  Bourgeonville." 

As  he  was  looking  at  her  interrogatively,  she  said: 

"You  have  something  to  show  me,  Mr.  Burt,  and  I 
started  out  to  see  it.  I  am  quite  equal  to  the  ride,  if 
you  think  there  is  a  road." 

This  acquiescence  seemed  to  please  him,  and  he  turned 
to  find  the  girl  and  ascertain  if  she  could  furnish  any 
information.  She  was  peering  at  them  intently  through 
the  brush,  her  body  bent  forward,  watching  every 
motion  and  trying  to  catch  their  words. 

At  his  inquiry  she  looked  from  one  to  the  other  a 
moment  as  if  it  were  hard  to  disengage  her  mind  from 
the  study  she  was  making.     Presently  she  said : 

"There  be  n't  much  of  a  road  till  you  git  to  the  char- 
coal clearin'.  Then  there's  a  wagon  trail  to  the  Black 
Gully,  if  you  strike  it  in  the  brush." 

" How  far  is  the  clearing?" 

"Might  be  a  mile.  You-uns  don't  ride  much  as  high 
as  this,  an'  it's  scraggy  " 

Burt  thanked  her,  put  his  hand  in  his  pocket  and 
offered  her  a  piece  of  money.  She  drew  her  arms 
behind  her  and  stared  at  him  with  a  stolid  dignity,  at 
which  he  made  her  a  low  bow,  called  her  Miss  and  asked 
her  pardon.  The  next  moment  he  and  Miss  Bussey 
were  mounted  and  picking  their  way  along  the  narrow 
path  slowly. 

No  sooner  had  they  disappeared  in  the  trees  than  the 
girl  kicked  off  the  rubber  boots,  threw  them  upon  the 
ledge  of  rocks,  and,  arming  herself  with  a  dead  branch, 
set  out  in  a  stealthy  manner  to  keep  them  in  sight. 
There  was  some  trouble  in  threading  those  wild  heights 
bare-legged  as  she  was,  for  there  were  occasional  rattlers 
to  be  met  when  least  expected ;  but  she  was  accustomed 


i86  THE  CONQUERING  OP  KATE 

to  take  care  of  herself,  and  when  she  came  to  a  dense 
tangle  or  a  treacherous  bed  of  a  dry  stream  she  struck 
her  staff  on  the  ground,  listened,  and  hurried  on. 

Barefoot  as  she  now  was,  she  could  come  noiselessly 
upon  the  riders  without  their  knowing  it,  and  slipping 
through  the  underbrush  from  tree  to  tree  like  a  strangely 
lithe  and  vigorous  animal,  she  kept  the  receding  figures 
in  sight.  Now  and  then  her  black  hair  caught  in  the 
interlaced  stems,  but  she  disentangled  herself  with  an 
impatient  shake  of  her  head  and  went  on  heedless  of 
the  impediment. 

The  picture  of  these  fortunate  companions  had  some 
kind  of  fascination  for  her.  She  watched  them  with  a 
curiosity  that  was  intense,  as  if  all  her  untutored  faculties 
were  bent  upon  the  task  of  discovering  their  relationship. 
Miss  Bussey  she  knew.  That  vison  had  flitted  before 
her  eyes  in  uncertain  remoteness  at  odd  times.  But 
the  other — who  was  he  ?  Once  in  her  hiirry  she  stumbled 
over  a  vine  and  something  fell  out  of  the  folds  of  her 
dress  into  the  debris  of  the  forest.  It  was  a  spelling- 
book.  She  reached  down  to  pick  it  up  out  of  the  leaves 
and  grasses  and  heard  the  ominous  burr  of  a  rattler 
somewhere  in  the  near  thicket,  but  she  gave  a  leap  out 
of  the  tangle,  replaced  the  book  in  her  breast  and  ran 
on. 

With  some  difficulty  John  Burt  found  the  old  wagon 
road  leading  out  of  the  deserted  charcoal-burner's  clear- 
ing, and  once  upon  that  unobstructed  way,  he  and  his 
companion  wound  round  the  shoulder  of  the  mountain 
and  came  out  on  the  northern  declivity  to  look  down 
with  awe  and  amazement  into  the  spreading  panorama 
of  the  Black  Ravine.  The  great  spur  on  the  other  side 
ran  off  southward  in  a  stupendous  slope  of  dark-green 
forest  that  died  out  in  tints  melting  with  successive 


"PLUM  HONEY"  187 

promontories  from  green  to  gray  and  from  gray  to  blue 
until  they  were  lost  in  skyey  shadows  far  to  the  south. 
Between,  flashed  and  softly  crooned  the  Sackasasson, 
lost  at  intervals  but  sparkling  out  again  in  the  purpling 
perspective,  and  throwing  back  tiny  flashes  from  the 
distance  as  one  has  seen  receding  friends  wave  their 
white  handkerchiefs  before  being  swallowed  up  in 
absence. 

Certain  it  is  that  the  sudden  unrolling  of  this  magnifi- 
cent picture  produced,  as  Miss  Bussey  had  said,  entirely 
different  emotions  in  the  breasts  of  the  two  observers. 
The  physical  vastness  of  it  affected  Miss  Bussey  with  a 
shrinking  awe  mingled  with  an  artist's  sense  of  sublimity 
at  the  same  time.  She  was  in  the  presence  of  the  infi- 
nitely beautiful,  and  it  made  her  feel  her  finite  littleness. 
On  the  other  hand,  John  Burt,  whatever  his  esthetic 
emotions,  looked  at  the  view  with  a  clear  utilitarian 
eye  and  measured  its  beauty  by  its  possibilities.  He 
slipped  down  and  stood  beside  his  companion,  pointing 
out  with  a  surveyor's  easy  mastery  of  it  what  else  must 
have  been  lost  to  her  in  the  splendid  glamour  of  it. 

"You  will  notice,"  he  said,  "the  dark  timber-line  on 
the  northern  side  of  that  valley.  It  gets  its  hue  from 
the  spruce  and  cedar.  I  estimate  the  belt  to  contain 
ten  thousand  acres  of  timber  that  is  prospectively  worth 
a  good  deal  of  money.  Its  value  in  the  market  is 
enhanced  by  the  river,  which  in  the  spring  will 
furnish  the  means  of  easy  transportation  for  the 
logs,  and  the  stream  runs  about  fifty  miles 
southeast — that  is,  to  within  a  few  miles  of  the  Gum 
Valley  road." 

"It  seems  to  me,"  said  Miss  Bussey,  "much  too  beauti- 
ful to  be  disturbed.  I  cannot  look  at  it  without  feeling 
the  strains  of  an  unearthly  music.     Do  not  those  soft 


i88  THE  CONQUERING  OF  KATE 

peaks  in  the  distance,  lying  in  sun  and  shadow,  remind 
you  of  the  cadence  of  a  melancholy  song?" 

John  Burt  was  evidently  trying  to  resist  this  sort  of 
fancy.  He  had  not  come  there  for  an  exercise  of  his 
imagination. 

"Miss  Bussey,"  he  said,  "I  am  as  susceptible  as  your- 
self, perhaps,  to  the  influences  of  such  a  picture,  but  I 
wish  to  call  your  attention  to  the  timber.  That  enor- 
mous strip  is  for  the  moment  lying  unsuspected.  My 
impression  is  that  it  can  be  bought  for  a  song  and  sold 
at  a  fair  advance  by  some  one  who  can  forecast  the 
demand.  The  present  difficiilty  is  in  finding  the  titles, 
but  even  that  can  be  overcome.  In  a  little  while  the 
new  wave  of  enterprise  will  flow  over  that  ridge.  There  is 
great  advantage,  I  assure  you,  in  being  first  on  the  spot." 

She  gazed  at  the  beautiful  picture  and  it  seemed  to 
her  that  the  great  barrier  that  lifted  itself  in  such  noble 
sky  lines  was  intended  as  a  protection  from  speculation. 
She  thought  Enterprise  would  hold  its  breath  before  it 
undertook  to  cross  that  great  ridge. 

John  Burt  smiled.  "It  will  probably  go  under  it," 
he  said.  "The  Gum  Valley  road,  if  it  carries  out  its 
surveys,  will  tunnel  the  mountain.  It  is  not  much  of 
an  engineering  feat." 

He  took  out  his  pad  and  pencil  and,  coming  close  to 
her  saddle,  showed  her  what  the  probable  rate  of  incre- 
ment would  be  on  the  lands.  He  called  it  "a  speculative 
use  of  natural  resources," /'and  that  is  the  way,"  he  said, 
"for  you  to  look  at  it — not  industrially.  The  percentage 
of  increase  involves  nothing  more  than  the  investment." 

"Oh,  no,"  she  replied.  "You  are  overlooking  all  the 
executive  supervision  and  management,  and  assuming 
that  I,  with  only  one  lesson,  can  do  what  you,  with  your 
knowledge  and  experience,  alone  can  do." 


"PLUM  HONEY"  189 

"I  will  be  frank  with  you,"  he  said,  "because  I  am  in 
a  position  to  be  disinterested,  and  I  hope  that  you  will 
give  me  credit  for  it.  It  is  true  I  have  acted  as  your 
agent  in  one  small  transaction — I  might  almost  say  as 
your  partner.  But  as  you  are  to  remain  here  and  I 
am  not,  it  seems  to  me  to  be  rather  lacking  in  mag- 
nanimity to  carry  off  the  chance  with  me  where  I  could 
not  avail  myself  of  it.  It  is  an  impulse  that  is  so  simple, 
and  I  suppose  so  common  to  all  men,  that  I  fear  you  do 
not  quite  understand  it." 

"I  am  afraid,  Mr.  Burt,  if  what  you  say  is  true,  that 
you  are  doing  the  impulse  great  injustice." 

"Well,  Miss  Bussey,  it  costs  me  nothing  to  put  into 
your  hands  what  I  cannot  avail  myself  of.  Of  cotirse, 
I  know  very  little  of  the  conditions  which  hamper  you 
in  the  attempt  to  save  your  inheritance,  but  I  assume 
that  you  desire  to  save  it,  and  I  thought  it  no  more  than 
fair  to  point  out  to  you  a  most  fortuitous  chance  to  do  so 
— a  chance  which,  for  aught  I  know,  may  save  you  from 
making  sacrifices.  This  comprehends  the  whole  of 
my  purpose  in  bringing  you  here." 

He  put  the  pad  in  his  pocket  and  turned  to  his  horse. 

"I  suppose,  Mr.  Burt,"  she  said,  "that  I  ought  in  some 
way  to  express  my  gratitude  to  you  for  your  disinterested 
efforts,  and  I  hope  you  will  not  think  me  ungenerous  if 
I  say  that  I  have  not  your  ability  to  remove  mountains. 
Your  scheme  appals  me,  like  this  view." 

"But  it  is  only  a  matter  of  buying  and  selling.  You 
have  already  doubled  your  capital;  all  you  have  to  do 
is  to  go  on  doubling  it  while  the  opporttmity  lasts." 

"Yes,  it  sounds  so  easy  when  you  say  it.  You  speak 
as  if  I  had  done  something  other  than  simply  obey 
you." 

"In  a  matter  of  this  kind,  I  think  you  did  well  to  obey 


I90  THE  CONQUERING  OF  KATE 

me,  though  I  should  not  use  that  word.  It  was  to  your 
interest  to  do  so." 

She  started  a  Httle.  There  was  an  obduracy  in  his 
kindness  that  baffled  her.  Perhaps  it  was  character- 
istic of  an  engineer  who  had  come  to  regard  women  as 
he  did  other  material  obstacles. 

"If  I  had  not  possessed  some  advantages,"  he  said 
a  moment  later,  "advantages  of  a  rude  matter-of-fact 
kind,  any  proffer  of  assistance  on  my  part  would  have 
been  impertinent.  Perhaps  you  can  imagine  mag- 
nanimity without  strength.     I  cannot." 

"Thank  you,"  she  replied.  "I  can  understand  that 
in  showing  you  my  inability  I  should  also  betray  how 
unmagnanimous  I  am.     But  you  need  not  have  told  me. ' ' 

He  was  just  about  to  mount,  and  he  turned  round 
again  to  say: 

"You  utterly  mistake.  Miss  Bussey.  A  man  does  not 
expect  magnanimity  from  a  woman.  He  only  asks  the 
privilege  of  exercising  it." 

"And  you  make  an  equal  mistake,  Mr.  Burt,  if  you 
suppose  that  a  woman  cannot  prize  what  she  herself 
does  not  possess.  Are  you  sure  that  you  have  taken 
the  best  course  to  convince  me  of  your  magnanimity?" 

"I  have  not  thought  of  the  course,"  he  said,  "nor 
much  of  myself.  If  you  will  permit  me  to  say  so,  I  must 
have  been  thinking  of  you  and  your  difficulty  as  directly 
as  a  disinterested  man  may  be  permitted  to  think.  We 
seem  to  have  dropped  to  hair-splitting  most  unnecessar- 
ily. I  have  not  involved  you  in  any  scheme  of  my  own, 
nor  do  I  intend  to.  I  have  placed  before  you  what  a 
practical  man  regards  as  a  rare  chance.  The  beauty 
of  it  is  that  it  will  cost  you  nothing  to  forget  it." 

"Your  magnanimity,  Mr.  Burt,  is  being  drawn  to  too 
fine  a  point." 


"PLUM  HONEY"  191 

Her  horse  sheered  a  little,  so  that  she  came  close 
beside  him,  and  without  intending  it  she  seemed  to  be 
talking  down  to  him  from  her  saddle. 

"You  remind  me,"  she  said,  "of  a  supreme  actor, 
who,  having  put  a  humble  poet's  thought  into  action 
and  astonished  the  author,  comes  to  him  and  says. 
Now  that  I  have  shown  you  how  utterly  incapable  you 
are  of  embodying  your  own  ideas,  I  leave  you  to  act 
them  out  yourself.  It  isn't  magnanimous,  Mr.  Burt,  to 
show  me  what  you  alone  can  accomplish,  and  then 
expect  me  to  accomplish  it.  I  should  think  you  could 
see  that." 

For  a  moment  they  looked  into  each  other's  eyes  as 
he  stood  there,  and  he  had  to  look  up.  His  was  a  frank, 
imperturbed  expression,  which  the  woman  could  read 
much  more  swiftly  than  he  could  read  hers,  in  which 
several  contending  emotions  were  softly  blended. 

"It  would  be  too  bad,"  he  said,  "if  it  should  appear 
that  in  bringing  you  out  here  I  had  any  purpose  of  my 
own  to  gain." 

"It  may  not  have  been  your  purpose,"  she  repHed, 
"but  it  is  surely  the  result  to  make  me  feel  how  helpless 
I  am  without  your  assistance.  That  is  bad  enough,  but 
it  is  worse  to  have  to  acknowledge  to  you  that  you  have 
succeeded." 

There  was  just  the  faintest  flush  on  her  cheek  as  she 
said  this,  but  he  did  not  notice  it,  although  he  was  looking 
straight  at  her. 

But  some  one  else  saw  it  as  she  peered  like  a  lynx 
between  the  trees. 

"Miss  Bussey,"  he  said,  "I  haven't  a  bit  of  finesse. 
You  must  have  discovered  it  before  this.  I  have  spoken 
so  confidently  to  you  about  matters  that  I  ought  to  have 
known  were  outside  of  your  experience,  that  you  have 


192  THE  CONQUERING  OF  KATE 

overestimated  my  ability.  There  is  nothing  in  the 
consummation  of  this  project  that  any  straightforward, 
discreet  man  may  not  carry  out  with  the  abiHty  that  most 
men  have.  Had  I  thought  for  one  moment  that  I 
was  capable  of  it  alone  I  should  have  held  my  tongue." 

As  he  was  looking  straight  into  her  face  as  he  spoke, 
she  pulled  off  one  of  her  gaimtlets  and  oflEered  him  her 
hand. 

"Mr.  Burt,"  she  said,  "there  is  no  good  reason  why  we 
should  not  remain  friends,  even  if  we  cannot  be  partners. 
I  think  you  are  honest  and  frank.  Had  we  not  better  go 
back?" 

A  moment  later  they  were  riding  over  the  path  by 
which  they  had  come. 

The  unkempt  figure  in  the  trees  had  watched  them 
with  a  straining  intentness  that  gave  her  form  a  nervous 
poise  and  her  face  an  expression  of  singular  concentration. 
Not  a  movement  had  escaped  her.  She  could  not  hear 
the  words,  nor  would  she  have  understood  them  if  she 
had,  but  the  attitudes,  the  gestures,  the  motions  of 
their  mouths  as  they  spoke,  were  to  her  means  of  arriving 
at  some  conclusion  in  her  own  mind.  She  saw  Miss 
Bussey  come  close  to  her  companion  and  lean  over  a 
little  in  her  saddle  to  speak  to  him,  and  she  noticed 
that  their  voices  were  subdued.  She  even  saw  with  her 
clear,  penetrative  sight  the  slight  flush  of  colour  on 
Miss  Bussey's  face  as  she  drew  off  her  gauntlet  and  gave 
the  man  her  hand,  and  as  she  saw  it  she  let  a  little 
voluntary  sigh  of  relief  escape  from  her,  as  the  untutored 
observer  will  when  watching  a  melodrama  that  has 
enlisted  all  her  sympathies  and  that  comes  to  a  desired 
crisis. 

She  crouched  as  they  rode  away,  still  looking  after 
them,  and  when  they  were  gone  she  came  out  in  the 


"PLUM  HONEY"  193 

sunlight  on  the  rocks,  sat  down  and,  clasping  her  knees 
with  her  interlaced  fingers,  swayed  her  body  to  and 
fro  with  some  kind  of  rhythmic  impulse  of  satisfaction. 
Perhaps  she  had  discovered  something  with  her  natural 
clairvoyance  that  would  have  passed  unheeded  by 
finer  vision,  for  she  stared  into  the  sunlit  expanse  and 
said  audibly: 

"Sure — siure.    They  be  plum  honey,  sartin'." 


CHAPTER  XII 
Some  Wild  Rosebuds 

It  required  much  patience  and  forbearance  to 
manage  Aunt  Sussex,  but  what  will  not  affection  do 
even  with  the  obstinacy  of  age  and  prejudice.  The  old 
lady  shut  herself  up  in  her  room  when  Mr,  Burt  called, 
and  for  some  time  after  his  departure  gave  out  strong 
intimations  of  going  back  to  Tennessee  to  rest  her  bones. 

While  Miss  Kate  had  been  trying  to  learn  something 
about  the  resources  of  Franklin  and  doing  her  best  to 
look  at  the  timber  through  Mr.  Burt's  eyes,  Sylvia  was 
taking  a  lesson  in  fly-fishing  from  Mr.  Tony  Brahm. 

"Once  more,  old  red  rag,"  she  had  said  to  her  Gari- 
baldi in  a  girlish,  apostrophe,  "once  more,  and  then  to 
the  rag-bag,  you  dear  old  faithful  fright."  So  it  had 
gleamed  along  the  banks  of  the  Kitchomony  that  day, 
to  the  gladdening  of  Tony  for  the  last  time.  The  next 
morning  Sylvia  and  Penelly  set  out  for  Chambersburg 
to  do  their  shopping,  and  Tony,  who  was  going  to  New 
York  on  a  flying  trip,  accompanied  them  to  their 
destination. 

The  coast  being  clear  and  Kate  having  the  day  upon 
her  hands,  she  naturally  enough  paid  Unci  Dan'l  a 
visit.  She  had  a  well-defined  belief  that  she  was  to  be 
left  undisturbed  to  her  own  fancies  for  one  day. 

If  she  had  known  that  John  Burt  would  intercept  her 
she  would  not  have  gone.  Let  us  be  just  to  her.  Of  all 
things  in  the  world  she  would  have  shrunk  from  throwing 

194 


SOME  WILD  ROSEBUDS  195 

herself  in  his  way  so  soon  after  that  ride.  But  even 
maiden  modesty  cannot  arrange  these  matters.  No 
sooner  had  she  seated  herself  at  Unc'l  Dan'l's  door  and 
begun  to  beam  securely  upon  him,  than  she  saw  Pete 
bring  John  Burt's  horse  to  his  door,  and  the  next  moment 
John  Burt  issued  therefrom  and  saw  her  encamped 
there  as  if  to  intercept  him.   She  got  up  instantly,  saying:' 

"I  did  not  know  that  he  was  here,  Unc'l,"  and  making 
a  hasty  excuse,  started  off  down  the  slope. 

But  John  Burt  was  not  going  to  let  her  escape  that  way. 
When  he  came  within  ten  feet  of  her  and  she  saw  that 
she  could  not  avoid  him  without  sacrificing  dignity  to 
flight,  she  turned  round  and,  drawing  herself  up,  said: 

"I  did  not  know  that  you  were  here." 

"It  is  needless  to  tell  me  that.  Miss  Bussey,"  he  replied 
politely.  "But  I  am  glad  that  I  am  here — otherwise 
I  should  not  have  seen  you  for  several  days,  and  I  have 
something  to  tell  you  touching  the  mountain  lands." 

"Can  you  not  call  at  the  house?" 

"No.  I  cannot.  If  I  am  to  be  of  any  service  to  you 
I  must  forego  some  of  the  conventional  regulations, 
however  delightful.  I  will  walk  down  the  slope  with  you 
and  tell  you,  making  it  as  brief  as  possible." 

What  was  to  be  done  by  maiden  modesty  thus  on 
the  alert  ?  Nothing.  It  held  itself  in  reserve,  and  before 
it  knew  what  it  was  up  to  was  walking  down  the  incline 
with  hard  practicality  close  beside  it. 

"I  have  just  received  a  letter  from  New  York,"  said 
Mr.  Burt,  "which  makes  it  important  to  look  after  that 
strip  of  timber  immediately,  and  I  wanted  to  say  to  you 
that  if  you  wished  to  continue  the  partnership  I  can 
double  $500  for  you.  It  is  necessary  to  act  instantly 
in  these  matters,  and  that  ought  to  excuse  what  looks 
like  impetuosity  in  my  manner." 


196  THE  CONQUERING  OF  KATE 

Her  bewilderment  puzzled  him  a  little.  He  was  not 
good  at  interpreting  a  woman  in  such  a  crisis. 

"You  want  me  to  give  you  $500?"  she  said  inquir- 
ingly.    "Is  that  all?     I  will  send  it  over  to  you." 

"No — that  is  not  all,  Miss  Bussey.  My  assistance  is 
only  temporary  and  the  time  is  short.  I  should  like  to 
know  before  I  leave  the  Grange  that  my  presence  here 
has  been  understood." 

They  came  to  the  little  ledge  of  shale  where  he 
had  first  seen  her,  and  as  she  turned  and  stopped 
in  the  path,  as  if  she  could  not  frame  the  proper 
reply  while  walking,  their  positions  were  for  the 
moment  very  much  as  they  had  been  when  her  beautiful 
disdain  and  unexpected  demeanour  of  authority  had  so 
astonished  him.  Neither  of  them  thought  of  the  trivial 
coincidence,  nor  remarked  at  the  moment  the  evidences 
of  the  waning  summer  in  the  picture  of  which  they  were 
again  the  centre.  The  wet  meadows  below  had  already 
turned  from  a  rusty  gray  to  a  yellow-and-tan  vista  with 
sunset  streaks,  and  the  fires  of  the  smouldering  summer 
were  beginning  to  show  their  sparks  in  the  Virginia 
creeper  and  the  Indian  dyes  in  the  crevices  of  the  rocks. 
If  there  was  any  swift  and  half-conscious  recollection  in 
John  Burt's  mind  of  the  former  meeting,  it  went  no 
further  than  a  comparison  of  the  gentle  and  inquiring 
face  with  the  hauteur  and  contempt  that  it  once  wore. 
He  had  paused  a  moment  as  this  comparison  went 
through  his  mind,  and  then,  conscious  that  he  was  staring 
at  her  rather  intently,  he  said : 

"I  should  feel  more  comfortable  wherever  I  may  be 
if  I  knew  that  you  ceased  to  remember  me  as  an  impudent 
interloper."  Then  he  looked  through  the  opening  in 
the  aspens,  out  into  the  southwestern  expanse,  lying  so 
dreamily  vague  and  deliciously  abstract.     He  did  it  as 


SOME  WILD  ROSEBUDS  197 

one  might  do  who  is  in  danger  of  becoming  too  personal 
and  concrete. 

"Mr.  Burt,"  replied  Miss  Bussey,  with  straightforward 
frankness,  "it  is  somewhat  ungenerous  to  refer  to  my 
mistake  when  you  have  already  so  kindly  corrected  it. 
Wherever  you  may  be,  I  shall  continue  to  think  of  you 
as  a  singularly  masterful  man  who  came  to  my  assist- 
ance and  went  away  without  any  reward.  I  would 
endeavour  to  thank  you  now  if  I  were  not  sure  that  it 
would  sound  poverty-stricken." 

He  looked  at  her  with  a  quick  turn  of  the  head,  as  if 
her  vanishing  imperiousness  had  made  a  soft  retreating 
sound;  the  fair,  unperturbed  and  simple  honesty  of  face, 
that  so  well  corresponded  to  the  words,  touched  the 
magnanimity  of  him,  and  a  little  pang  of  shame  went 
through  him  as  he  thought  of  his  superior  airs  and  lordly 
audacity  with  that  helpless  old  aunt. 

"It  never  once  occurred  to  me,"  he  said,  "that  I  was 
entitled  to  any  thanks  or  reward.  I  came  almost  acci- 
dentally upon  a  great  task  and  found  a  lady  baffled  and 
helpless  in  front  of  it.  Miss  Bussey,  it  is  a  very  common 
masculine  virtue  to  turn  such  an  occasion  into  a  rescue. 
I  wish  you  would  not  speak  of  it.  I  should  Hke  to  have 
been  understood — that  is  all." 

"Why  will  you  not  make  some  allowance  for  us?  A 
practical  man  was  such  a  curiosity  to  us.  It  was  not 
very  nice  of  you  to  be  indignant  because  we  were  scared 
to  death." 

"Scared!"  he  repeated  with  a  smile  of  incredulity. 

"Yes;  at  first — you  know.'^  But  you  see  I  am  over  it 
now — now  that  we  have  succeeded  in  scaring  you  away. " 

"Ah,"  he  said  to  himself,  "it  is  my  going  away  that 
accounts  for  this  gracious  familiarity.  Let  me  try  and 
not  forget  that." 


198  THE  CONQUERING  OF  KATE 

To  her  he  said:  "You  are  acknowledging  that  my 
going  away  is  a  relief  to  you.  There  you  have  the 
advantage  of  me,  for  I  am  not  sure  that  it  will  be  a  relief 
to  me.  I  feel  as  if  I  were  leaving  something  undone 
that  called  to  me  out  of  a  past." 

The  soft  south  breeze  came  up  laden  with  burnt 
odours  from  the  meadows  and  blew  one  or  two  locks  of 
hair  over  his  forehead  as  he  stood  there  apparently 
musing.  She  looked  at  him  furtively,  and  the  mellow, 
translucent  glory  of  the  hour  seemed  to  soften  and  push 
him  backward  to  that  past,  as  if,  indeed,  he  were  not  an 
overseer  intent  on  vulgar  drudgery,  but  closing  up  a 
gap  that  had  widened  between  the  past  and  the  present. 
The  low  hum  of  the  dying  summer  came  to  their  ears  like 
the  music  of  other  days  with  a  voluptuous  and  reminis- 
cent suggestion.  Then  they  walked  along  the  bank 
of  the  Kitchomony  and  their  conversation  dropped  into 
accord  with  the  monotone  about  them.  Coming  to  a 
diverging  path.  Miss  Bussey  turned  into  it  as  if  by  habit, 
John  Burt  walking  by  her  side  as  if  in  a  dream,  and 
presently  they  arrived  at  the  little  plot  where  her 
grandmother,  her  mother  and  father  and  her  brother 
were  buried.  She  stood  still  a  moment  to  regard  it 
pensively,  and  then  as  he  was  talking  she  leaned  her 
elbow  on  one  of  the  stone  posts  of  the  enclosure.  The 
conspicuous  white  monument  in  the  centre  of  the  space 
bore  the  name  of  Kate  Bussey.  John  Burt  lifted  his  hat 
and  surveyed  the  plot  with  a  passing  wonder  at  its 
neglect. 

"I  can  understand,"  he  said  softly,  "how  it  would 
affect  you  to  have  the  property  fall  into  other  hands. " 

"If  she  were  alive,  Mr.  Burt,"  replied  Kate,  "she 
would  have  availed  herself  of  your  talents  and  knowl- 
edge.    She  always  had  executive  and  loyal  men  about 


SOME  WILD  ROSEBUDS  199 

her.     You  see  I   am   not   at  all  like  her,  more  is  the 
pity." 

"She  must  have  been  an  extraordinary  woman  from 
all  I  hear  about  her, "  said  John  Burt,  stupidly  ignoring 
the  live  beauty  for  the  dead  virtues.  "I  suppose  that 
talent  and  bravery  simply  obeyed  the  law  of  attraction. 
You  need  have  no  fear,  Miss  Bussey,  that  the  law  died 
with  her. " 

"  No,  no, "  replied  his  companion,  as  if  making  acknowl- 
edgment to  herself.  "I  have  inherited  her  estates,  but 
not  her  sovereignty.     I  cannot  command  anything. " 

John  Burt  stepped  over  the  chain  that  ran  from 
post  to  post  of  the  enclosure  and  began  picking  off  some 
of  the  little  wild  rosebuds  that  clustered  round  the 
monument. 

"Odd,"  he  said,  "that  you  should  insist  upon  feeling 
that  way  when  the  first  thing  I  did  when  I  arrived  here 
was  to  ask  you  to  command  me. " 

She  leaned  upon  the  stone  post  and  looked  away  to 
the  purpling  perspective  in  the  west  as  he  snipped  off 
the  buds.  There  was  not  more  than  six  feet  of  space 
between  them,  but  he  slowly  turned  and  looked  across 
the  bluff  to  the  reflected  Ughts  in  the  east.  The  points  of 
the  compass  suddenly  seemed  to  bear  some  relation  to 
the  conversation. 

.    "I  believe  you  did,"  she  said  musingly.     "But  that 
was  before  I  tried  to  be  a  business  woman. " 

"And  now  that  you  are  trying  to  be "  he  inquired. 

"It  seems  to  be  too  late,"  she  replied. 

"Too  late  to  do  all  that  I  intended,"  he  said,  "but 
certainly  not  too  late  to  tell  you  what  it  was  so  that  you 
can  do  it  yourself.     There  is  that  pasture  to  be  drained.  " 

She  lifted  her  hand  with  an  involuntary  appeal,  as  if 
deprecating  the  man's  return  to  the  soil.     In  spite  of 


2»o  THE  CONQUERING  OF  KATE 

her,  the  subtle  influence  of  the  air  and  hour  were  weav- 
ing out  of  her  fancy  a  spell  of  romance  about  him  as  he 
stood  there  at  her  grandmother's  grave  with  the  rose- 
buds in  his  hand;  and  to  bring  him  back  to  the  rosier 
path,  she  said: 

"You  may  give  me  some  of  the  buds. " 

He  promptly  handed  her  the  little  wild  flowers  over 
the  chain.  With  a  swift  and  dexterous  magic  of  which 
he  was  not  capable  she  gave  part  of  them  an  interwoven 
twist,  transforming  them  into  a  tiny  nosegay,  caught  a 
pin  deftly  from  somewhere,  and  before  he  knew  it  was 
pinning  the  bunch  on  his  coat. 

"It  will  be  more  real,"  she  whispered,  "if  the  live 
Kate  gave  them  to  you,  and  you  can  say  that  it  was  all 
she  had,"  and  then  she  turned  away  as  if  an  expiation 
had  been  made. 

As  for  John  Burt,  it  seemed  to  him  that  the  little  act 
was  strangely  sufficient,  and  he  wanted  to  thank  her, 
but  such  thanks  as  words  could  convey  were  ashamed 
of  their  clumsiness  and  stuck  in  his  throat.  As  he  stood 
there  strangling  himself  with  the  unexpressed,  she 
turned  away  as  if  it  were  time  to  beat  a  retreat,  and 
then  she  thought  of  something,  and  suddenly  facing 
about  and  tucking  the  remainder  of  the  buds  in  her 
belt,  she  came  up  to  him  and  gave  him  her  hand  with  a 
good-by  impulse. 

'  "I  feel, "  she  said,  "that  I  have  not  been  as  candid  as 
you  have.  Is  it  an  absolute  necessity  that  you  should 
abandon  the  place  at  this  time?"  Then  she  gently 
withdrew  her  hand. 

"Thank  Heaven,  Miss  Bussey, "  he  replied  promptly, 
"I  have  never  yet  been  reduced  to  absolute  necessity. 
Do  you  ask  me  to  stay?" 

She  did  not  dare  to  look  at  him  now.     She  felt  that 


%OUE  WILD  ROSEBUDS  2»i 

maiden  modesty  had  imperiled  itself  and  that  he  was 
staring  at  her  eagerly. 

"Suppose,"  she  softly  said,  "that,  as  the  mistress  of 
the  place,  I  command  you. ' ' 

"My  first  impulse,  I  feel  sure,"  said  John  Burt, 
"  would  be  to  obey. " 

"But  it  is  so  preposterously  selfish  to  ask  you  to 
relinquish  all  other  interests  because — ^because  this 
place  needs  you  so." 

"  Miss  Bussey, "  he  said,  but  he  seemed  to  be  speaking 
to  himself,  "it  seems  to  me  at  this  moment  that  I  have 
no  other  interests  in  the  world. " 

At  which  speech  they  both  began  looking  at  the 
opposite  points  of  the  compass  again,  a  proceeding  on 
his  part  which  apparently  added  to  his  vocabulary,  for 
he  went  on: 

"  Upon  my  word,  it  looks  just  now  as  if  my  sole  interest 
was  to  bring  whatever  strength  I  have  to  your  aid. 
Does  that  startle  you?" 

"No,"  she  murmured,  "I  am  not  startled." 

At  that  he  turned  still  farther  away,  but  it  was  so  easy 
a  movement  that  it  scarcely  indicated  how  delicate  the 
conversation  was  becoming. 

"I  wish,"  he  said,  "that  you  would  carry  your  frank- 
ness so  far  as  to  say  that  you  do  not  wish  me  to  go. " 

"I  certainly  do  not.  I  am  beginning  to  have  some 
little  practical  sense.     Do  you  wish  me  to  beg  you? " 

He  looked  at  her  admiringly.  "It  may  be  fantastic," 
he  said,  "but  as  you  stand  there  with  your  head  turned 
away  it  seems  to  me  that  it  would  sound  very  pleasant 
if  you  did." 

"Very  well,  Mr.  Burt,"  she  said  softly,  "please  stay, 
for  my  sake.  Is  there  anything  else  humiUating  that 
you  can  think  of  ? " 


202  THE  CONQUERING  OF  KATE 

"Nothing,"  he  said,  "unless  it  should  be  my  going 
away  now." 

At  this  he  checked  himself  suddenly,  as  was  his  wont 
when  finding  himself  drifting  into  sentiment. 

"I  am  going  in  the  morning,"  he  said,  "to  look  at 
that  timber  in  the  Black  Ravine.  How  long  I  shall  be 
away  is  uncertain,  but  while  I  am  gone  you  will  look 
after  the  place.     Time  flies. " 

"Yes.     What  am  I  to  do?" 

"I  will  write  the  instructions  down  for  you  before  I 
leave.  You  must  take  those  stumps  out  of  the  south 
grove  where  I  have  cut  the  timber. " 

"Yes,"  she  replied,  looking  at  him  with  a  beautiful 
obedience  and  then  at  her  white  hands.  "However 
shall  I  pull  them  out?" 

"You  will  drop  a  note  to  Mr.  Seton  at  the  Quarries.  I 
have  already  spoken  to  him.  He  will  send  two  men  and 
a  team.  They  are  to  be  piled  upon  the  grass-field,  where 
they  will  burn  them.  " 

She  was  moving  away  now  as  if  his  practicality 
repelled    her.  i 

"You  see,"  he  said,  "I  am  only  a  drudge,  but  I  was 
thinking  of  your  assuming  your  sovereignty.  Every- 
body here  will  jump  to  obey  you  when  you  do " 

He  turned  half  round  toward  the  monument,  lifted  his 
hat  with  easy  dignity,  and  finished  his  speech:  "And 
then.  Miss  Bussey,  the  real  Kate  of  the  Catalpas  will 
live  again." 

In  another  moment  she  was  gone.  He  stood  there 
looking  after  her.  The  croon  of  the  summer  was  about 
it  all.  The  shadow  of  the  monument  had  crept  out 
eastward  some  feet.  A  cricket  was  strumming  in  the 
tangle  at  its  base.  He  noticed  the  burnt  odour  of  the 
field  asters  that  hung  heavy  in  the  still  air.     He  put  his 


SOME  WILD  ROSEBUDS  203 

hand  on  the  stone  post  preparatory  to  leaping  over,  and 
said  as  he  did  so,  "I  wonder  if  I  am  as  practical  and 
strong  as  she  thinks  I  am. "  Then  he  gave  his  breast  an 
involuntary  blow  as  if  to  reassure  himself,  and  his  fist 
fell  upon  the  little  buds  pinned  there.  It  gave  him 
something  of  a  start,  as  if  he  had  struck  sentiment  in 
the  face. 

Then  he  jumped  over  the  chain  and  went  off  along 
the  Kitchomony. 


CHAPTER  XIII 
The  Onus  Proband: 

With  a  distinct  glow  on  her  face,  Kate  took  her  way 
across  the  fields  toward  the  house.  She  noticed  before 
she  had  gone  far  that  she  had  dropped  one  of  the  little 
buds  from  her  belt.  She  stopped  and  counted  them. 
She  was  sure  there  had  been  five  and  now  there  were  only 
four.  She  turned  back  and  went  through  the  grass 
looking  for  it,  and  when  she  found  it  she  laughed.  All 
of  which  indicated  that  she  was  in  a  buoyant  condition 
of  mind. 

The  hot  sunshine  fell  gleamingly  upon  the  stretches 
of  tall  grass,  and  there  was  little  shade,  for  the  field  had 
been  denuded  and  often  plowed.  She  did  not  appear 
to  notice  the  glare  as  if  there  were  discomfort  in  it,  for 
as  she  sat  down  on  a  familiar  boulder  by  the  side  of  the 
path  and  fingered  the  buds  she  hummed  a  tune,  and 
these  were  the  words  of  it : 

"Yes,  there  I'll  soothe  thy  griefs  to  rest, 
Each  sigh  of  sorrow  quell, 
On  a  summer's  night,  in  the  starry  light, 
By  the  banks  of  the  blue  Moselle." 

"What  a  miserable  imbecile  he  must  think  I  am,"  she 

said  to  herself  with  a  confidential  look  of  dismay.     As 

she  sat  alone  on  the  stone  and  gave  no  heed  to  the 

bumblebee  that  seemed  to  be  weaving  a  circle  round 

her  thrice,  she  had  gone  back  to  the  girlish  illusions  of 

other   days.     "Perhaps   grandmother    sent   him,"    she 

said.     "What    a    notion!"    Jumping  up,   she    started 

again  through  the  grass  for  the  house. 

204 


THE  ONUS  PROBANDI  205 

So  preoccupied  was  she  with  these  idle  fancies  as  she 
slipped  lightly  through  the  grasses  that  she  did  not 
notice  Leesha's  turbaned  head  at  the  kitchen  door,  and 
saw  the  mammy  only  when  she  was  running  clumsily 
across  the  lawn  to  meet  her.  When  within  a  few  feet 
of  Kate  she  threw  up  her  hands  and  exclaimed: 

"De  gemman's  come,  de  gemman's  come,  honey — 
suah." 

Kate  looked  at  her  in  amazement,  but  a  little  knife- 
point touched  her  somewhere. 

"What  gentleman?"  she  asked.  "What  are  you 
talking  about?" 

"Mars  Junninham,  Miss  Kate,  suahs  de  Lor's  worl'. 
He's  dar  on  de  gallery  and  yer  aunt's  waitin'  fer  yer. 
Y'r  come  right  in  frou  de  kitchen  and  slick  yessef. 
Goddlemity,  dars  a  heap  o'  trunks  and  boxes,  and  a 
bunch  o'  posies  looks  like  de  Easter  momin'." 

Before  Kate  knew  what  she  was  about  she  had  turned 
with  an  irresistible  and  meaningless  impulse  and  taken 
two  steps  of  retreat.  Then  recollecting  herself,  she  came 
back,  and  Leesha,  still  in  an  excited  state,  said: 

"Fer  Gawd's  sake.  Miss  Kate,  yer  lookin'  like  a  spook 
and  yer  white  frock's  stuck  full  o'  beggar's  lice  outen  de 
fiel'." 

Kate  gathered  herself  together  and  went  straight  into 
the  kitchen.  Disregarding  Leesha's  efforts  to  slick  her 
up,  she  slipped  up  the  back  stairs,  swiftly  and  softly  as 
if  pursued,  and  came  into  her  room  like  a  ghost.  The 
window  was  open  and  she  put  her  head  out  and  listened. 
If  she  expected  to  hear  the  crack  of  doom,  she  was  dis- 
appointed. The  croon  of  the  summer  did  not  intermit. 
The  trees  and  the  vines  breathed  an  odorous  lullaby. 
The  soft  wind  fanned  her  and  the  faint  "  plunky-plunk  " 
of  a  banjo  was  wafted  to  her  by  it.     The  great  promises 


2o6  THE  CONQUERING  OF  KATE 

of  space  looked  at  her  unchanged  from  the  Maryland 
line. 

She  had  grown  cold,  and  her  hands  trembled  a  little 
as  she  held  the  curtain  aside.  Presently  some  one  came 
out  on  the  veranda  and  the  voice  of  Mr.  Journingham 
came  unmistakably  up  to  her.  He  was  talking  rapidly. 
She  heard  his  heavy  tread,  and  there  were  occasional 
ejaculations  of  surprise  and  sympathy  from  Aunt 
Sussex.  A  momentary  impulse  seized  Kate  as  she  stood 
there  to  go  back  down  the  stairs  as  softly  as  she  came, 
to  slip  out  noiselessly  and  fly  across  those  fields  helplessly 
toward  the  sound  of  that  distant  banjo.  It  was  only  a 
passing  zephyr  of  impulse,  and  so  far  as  she  was  conscious 
of  it  she  must  have  been  ashamed  of  it.  She  let  the  cur- 
tain fall  and  tried  to  array  herself  as  speedily  as  possible. 
What  would  her  man-of-all-work  think  of  such  weakness. 
As  she  hurriedly  caught  at  her  apparel  she  dropped  the 
buds  from  her  belt  to  the  floor,  and  as  she  picked  them 
up  she  became  aware  for  the  first  time  that  there  was  an 
enormous  bouquet  of  exotic  flowers  on  her  stand  before 
the  mirror  and  that  the  atmosphere  of  the  room  was 
cloying  with  the  scent.  What  had  she  been  thinking 
about  not  to  have  noticed  it  when  she  came  in.  She 
looked  at  her  little  buds  a  moment,  and  then,  going  to  her 
grandmother's  big  Bible,  opened  it  and  dropped  them  in, 
letting  the  lid  fall  as  if  she  had  buried  them.  Then  she 
summoned  her  self-respect.  The  hour  had  sounded  in 
which  she  was  to  prove  herself  a  Bussey. 

So  softly  and  slowly  did  she  come  down  the  stairs 
that  the  two  persons  on  the  veranda  did  not  hear  her, 
and  she  appeared  in  the  doorway  very  pale  in  spite  of 
herself,  but  erect  and  determined.  Mr,  Journingham 
came  at  her  with  ponderous  agility. 

"Kate,"  he  said,  holding  out  both  his  hands,  which 


THE  ONUS  PROBANDI  207 

seemed  to  wear  an  expression  of  avidity — "My  Kate," 
and  pulling  her  toward  him  he  kissed  her  on  the  forehead 
with  unmistakable  proprietorship.  Something  in  the 
contact  made  him  look  narrowly  into  her  face. 

"You  have  not  been  ill,  I  trust." 

"No,  no;  only  anxious.  We  feared  you  were  lost  on 
the  Oceanica." 

"It  is  the  most  astonishing  thing  I  ever  heard  of," 
said  Aunt  Sussex.  "He  says  that  he  has  written  us 
three  letters." 

"What  one  might  call  the  hand  of  Providence,  I 
assure  you,"  exclaimed  Mr.  Joumingham,  still  holding 
Kate's  hands.  "Was  booked  on  the  Oceanica  sure 
enough,  but  had  to  change  my  mind  at  the  last 
moment.  Your  letter,  my  dear,  necessitated  some 
radical  changes  and  preparations,  but  I  wrote  you,  'pon 
honour.  The  onus  probandi,  as  they  say  in  court,  is  on 
your  beastly  mail  service." 

He  was  a  florid  and  ample  example  of  the  respectable 
middle-aged  Briton,  with  a  massive  head  and  face,  small 
steely  eyes,  iron-gray  hair  and  whiskers,  and  a  slightly 
portly  impressiveness  of  mien,  altogether  appearing  to 
one  as  a  somewhat  pampered  club  bachelor  accustomed  to 
having  the  world  adjust  itself  to  his  innumerable  small 
personal  wants ;  and  therefore,  in  spite  of  his  overflowing 
amenity,  his  vitality  was  somewhat  dominating  if  not 
exacting,  and  Kate  felt  herself  shrinking  from  it  without 
knowing  why. 

"Yes,  yes,  ladies,  I  shall  look  into  this  matter  of  the 
letters,"  he  said.  "I  shall  certainly  bring  your  postal 
authorities  to  book.  But  that  can  wait.  Of  course  you 
are  anxious  to  hear  about  my  trip.  By  St.  Swithin,  we 
had  a  scurvy  time  of  it  crossing — yes,  we  did.  'Pon  my 
word,  I  can't  help  feeling  sorry  for  the  rest  of  the  passen- 


2o8  THE  CONQUERING  OF  KATE 

gets  when  I  think  I  am  the  only  one  with  a  sufficient 
reward.  I  suppose,"  he  said,  turning  to  Aunt  Sussex, 
"my  traps  had  better  be  taken  to  my  room.  You  have 
Pierson,  of  course.  Very  good.  He  can  assist  my  man 
with  the  luggage." 

Aunt  Sussex  made  an  apology  and  hurried  in  to  look 
after  the  traps.  The  moment  she  was  gone  Mr.  Jour- 
ningham  put  his  arm  around  Kate. 

"I  can  understand,  my  dear,  that  my  delay  and 
apparent  silence  must  have  been  very  cruel  to  you.  It's 
the  most  damnable  state  of  affairs.  But  we  shall  make 
amends.  You  are  really  glad  to  see  me,  are  you  not, 
after  all  this  suspense?" 

"You  have  so  startled  me,"  said  Kate,  letting  him  take 
her  hand,  "that  I  am  afraid  I  have  not  recovered  my 
nerves  sufficiently  to  appear  even  cordial.  But  I  shall 
grow  accustomed  to  it  presently." 

"Yes,  yes:  don't  bother  with  the  past.  I  never  do. 
Now  that  I  am  here  we  shall  soon  settle  your  nerves. 
You  trust  me  to  bring  back  the  roses  to  your  cheeks. 
By  Jove,  don't  you  know  that  letter  of  yours  was  like 
a  bolt  out  of  the  blue — knocked  me  off  my  pins  like  a 
white  flash  in  the  dark.  I  was  just  sitting  down  to 
dinner  at  the  Charlton — bachelor  farewell  to  Major  Phil 
Putney — when  it  fluttered  down  on  my  plate.  We  were 
going  to  lose  Phil,  and  he  was  to  have  a  send-off,  for  he 
had  captured  a  widow  down  in  Hertfordshire,  as  full  of 
consols  as  a  pomegranate  is  full  of  seeds.  So  it  was  a 
kind  of  melancholy  'God-bless-you-good-by-old-chap,' 
and  St.  George,  how  he  jibed  us  with  his  luck.  We 
were  a  set  of  disappointed  benedicks,  don't  you  know; 
and  the  jolly  dog  did  not  spare  me,  for  he,  like  the  rest 
of  them,  knew  that  I  had  come  back  from  the  States 
looking  blue  around  the  gills.     These  things  will  get 


THE  ONUS  PROBANDI  209 

out,  my  dear,  when  a  man  is  .knocked  down  by  them. 
Now  just  imagine  that  letter  of  yours  coming  down 
there,  as  I  said,  to  hit  me  a  stunner  and  give  Phil  a 
crack  over  his  impudence.  By  the  soul  of  old  Shake., 
Tom  Taylor  couldn't  have  arranged  it  any  more  neatly 
himself." 

Kate  listened  to  this  with  a  dumb  shrinking.  The 
man  seemed  to  be  explaining  himself  with  his  fists. 

"It  never  occurred  to  you,  of  course,  when  you  wrote 
that  letter,  that  it  would  enable  me  to  turn  the  tables  on 
Putney,  but  it  did.  Those  fellows  knew  something  was 
the  matter,  and  it  wasn't  a  bereavement,  either.  Phil 
insisted  that  I  should  tell  him  what  the  lady  said. 
Gentlemen,  I  replied,  she  says  you  will  have  to  give 
another  dinner.  That  was  rather  neat  on  my  part, 
don't  you  think,  and  hang  me,  my  dear,  if  they  didn't 
stand  up  and  drink  a  bumper  to  the  beautiful  unknown  ! 
But  I  must  polish  up  a  bit — have  a  bath  and  see  if  I 
can  get  the  smell  of  the  steamer  off.  'Phonse,  where 
the  devil  are  you?"  (Looking  at  his  watch.)  "What 
time  do  you  dine?" 

'Phonse,  whose  initial  syllable  had  been  lost  by, 
repetition,  came  up  suddenly,  a  stubby,  yellow-headed 
tiger,  out  of  livery,  showing  the  loss  in  his  ill-adapted 
American  tweed. 

"  'Phonse,  this  is  your  futiire  mistress,  Miss  Bussey 
for  the  present." 

"Sarvice,  M'm,"  said  'Phonse,  making  a  bow  and 
shuffle,  and  Aunt  Sussex  appearing  a  moment  later, 
the  guest  went  off  to  polish  up,  making  a  large  apology 
for  having  to  tear  himself  away  temporarily,  and  leaving 
Kate  standing  there  rather  vacantly  trying  to  realize 
it  all.  Her  dominant  feeling  was  one  of  surprise. 
Mr.  Joumingham  was  so  unlike  the  man  she  remem- 


2IO  THE  CONQUERING  OF  KATE 

bered.  She  recalled  how  bravely  she  had  pulled  her 
hand  away  once  before  as  if  her  rights  had  not  been 
relinquished  and  his  manner  must  conform  to  them. 
"Celebrated  my  humiliation  at  a  club  dinner,"  she  said 
to  herself,  "as  they  would  have  celebrated  the  dropping 
of  a  pheasant  on  the  wing."  She  could  not  understand 
why  Mr.  Journingham's  character  had  never  before 
shown  so  distinctly  and  sharply  to  her.  Had  she  been 
blind?  Now  that  she  was  face  to  face  with  the  crisis 
she  had  invoked,  some  kind  of  feeling — half  faith  and 
half  hope — told  her  that  it  was  too  preposterous  to  go 
on.  Something  must  happen  that  would  stop  it.  She 
would  be  frank  with  him  and  tell  him  the  truth.  Had 
she  not  already  seen  how  readily  men  forgive  the  mis- 
takes of  a  woman?  She  listened.  The  large  vibrating 
personality  of  Mr.  Journingham  disturbed  the  placid 
condition  of  the  household.  She  heard  him  in  the  upper 
hall  making  the  establishment  contributary  with  a  gusty 
patronage. 

"The  bathroom  water  has  to  be  carried  up,  you  say? 
Ah,  certainly.  'Phonse  will  attend  to  it,  my  dear 
madam.  But  if  you  have  a  rug  for  my  feet,  don't  you 
know.  Thanks — don't  bother.  I  dare  say  I  shall  find 
everything  all  right  with  'Phonse's  assistance." 

As  Kate  listened  to  these  waves  of  commotion  break- 
ing around  her  she  perceived  that  the  privilege  of  tub- 
bing the  distinguished  guest  penetrated  to  all  parts  of 
the  house.  There  was  hurrying  of  feet;  doors  were 
opening  and  shutting,  and  voices  came  from  the  kitchen 
as  if  its  sleepy  routine  had  been  interfered  with.  Aunt 
Sussex  came  and  looked  out  at  her  with  wear)'-  dignity. 
"My  dear,"  she  said,  "you  must  not  sit  here.  We  shall 
have  to  get  Sylvia's  room  ready  for  him.  He  must 
have  a  small  room  adjoining  for  his  man.     I  don't  think 


THE  ONUS  PROBAND!  an  , 

you  understand  the  responsibilities  of  such  an  occasion. 
You  leave  all  the  care  and  worry  to  me.  But  I  suppose 
I  am  equal  to  it — I  haven't  been  brought  up  as  you 
have,"  and  off  she  hurried. 

When  the  guest  issued  from  his  chamber,  groomed 
and  polished,  Kate  was  sitting  there  still,  trying  to 
straighten  it  all  out,  and  she  heard  his  unabated  gusto 
in  the  upper  hall.  He  was  telling  Aunt  Sussex  at  what 
hour  he  usually  dined.  "But,"  she  heard  him  say, 
"you  must  allow  me  to  adapt  myself  to  your  American 
customs.  I  eat  but  two  meals.  A  breakfast  at  nine, 
usually  quite  simple — a  cutlet  or  chop  or  deviled  kidney, 
or  some  trifle  of  that  kind,  a  bit  of  omelette  and  a  toasted 
muffin  and  coffee;  a  dinner — a  simple  joint  with  fruit 
and  pastry  of  any  kind.  'Phonse  will  assist  you  if 
desirable;  he  has  quite  a  French  knack,  I  assure  you. 
Is  Miss  Kate  downstairs?" 
X  As  she  heard  him  coming  down,  still  making  things 
echo  with  his  avowed  simpUcity,  she  felt  that  whatever 
maiden  seclusion  had  been  hers  was  now  disappearing. 
It  was  not  enough  to  concede  to  him  some  prospective 
rights;  she  must  be  in  evidence  when  he  was  not  being 
polished. 

"Kate,  Kate,"  he  called  in  the  hallway,  "where  are 
you?"  ^ 

"I  am  here  on  the  veranda,"  she  answered  meekly. 

"Ah,  of  course,  of  course,"  he  said,  coming  out  pon- 
derously in  white  flannels,  with  a  small  box  under  his 
arm  and  another  in  his  hand. 

"I  dare  say  I  seemed  unconscionably  long  about  it  to 
you,  but  everything  had  to  be  unpacked,  you  know, 
and  'Phonse  is  a  little  strange  to  the  place.     Permit  me." 

He  picked  up  her  hand,  and  before  she  could  frame  a 
protest  he  had  slipped  a  jeweled  ring  on  her  finger  and 


212  THE  CONQUERING  OF  KATE 

lifted  the  hand  to  his  lips.  As  she  did  not  look  at  the 
handsome  gift  with  a  girl's  glad  surprise,  but  held  her 
head  averted  as  if  with  a  girl's  modesty,  he  said: 

"Let  me  call  your  attention  to  the  gem,"  and  he 
moved  her  hand  so  that  the  light  would  strike  the 
facets.  "I  tried  to  match  your  eyes,  but,  by  Jove,  it 
was  no  easy  matter  even  in  London !  " 

Never  in  her  life  before  had  she  been  so  tongue-tied. 
Some  kind  of  meaningless  thanks  seemed  to  ooze  from 
her  without  impulse.  Up  to  that  moment  some  kind 
of  an  illusive  hope,  such  as  hovers  in  a  dream  and  subtly 
suggests  in  crises  of  danger  that  we  still  have  the  power 
of  waking  up,  had  lent  tolerance  to  his  arrival.  But 
now,  like  the  victim  of  a  trance  finally  laid  out,  she  felt 
as  if  this  little  act  of  fealty  was  like  the  sound  of  the 
undertaker's  screwdriver.  Some  kind  of  smouldering 
resentment  was  in  her,  too,  that  this  man  should  not 
notice  her  utter  lack  of  interest  in  what  was  so  vital  to 
him.  It  had  never  before  occurred  to  her  that  he  could 
be  so  dull,  and  the  first  thing  that  a  woman  despises  in 
a  man  is  the  overweening  dullness  of  an  all-sufficient 
egotism. 

"I  will  show  you  the  bracelets,"  he  said,  opening  the 
other  box,  "because  I  flatter  myself  I  am  something  of  a 
connoisseur  in  that  line,  but  I  am  going  to  reserve  the 
pleasure  of  clasping  them  until  you  are  in  full  dress.  I 
want  you  to  see  the  turquoises — I  captured  them  by 
the  merest  chance.  They  came  from  the  Caliph's 
harem.  Hold  your  arm  up,  my  dear,  to  the  light. 
Twenty  pounds  each  stone,  I  assure  you;  fancy  that 
against  a  pearl-gray  silk. " 

Kate  was  lying  back  in  her  chair  with  the  box  of 
presents  in  her  lap.  She  had  summoned  some  kind  of 
decent  surprise  and  was  trying  to  regard  the  jewels  with 


THE  ONUS  PROBANDI  213 

what  would  look  like  grateful  admiration,  and  when 
Mr.  Journingham  had  exhausted  his  eulogium  of  his  own 
cleverness  in  securing  them  he  got  up  and  stood  about 
as  if  his  flannels  were  entitled  to  some  recognition  as  well, 
and  as  they  failed  to  eUcit  any  from  the  one  observer  he 
took  up  the  burden  himself. 

"I  suppose  I  shall  astonish  the  natives  with  my  suit, 
but  white  flannels  were  the  rage  at  Brighton  and  Bath 
when  I  left.  How  do  you  think  they  become  me  ?  Not 
bad,  are  they?  If  I  could  have  stayed  over  in  New 
York  I'd  have  introduced  the  caper  there  at  the  St. 
George's  Club.  You  will  find,  my  dear,  that  I  have  a 
curious  weakness  in  these  matters,  but  I  have  always 
held  that  a  man  who  respects  the  woman  of  his  choice 
cannot  be  too  fastidious  in  these  affairs." 

She  said,  without  knowing  it,  that  the  suit  seemed 
very  appropriate  for  the  summer,  but  she  was  thinking 
just  then  what  her  sister  would  say  and  do  when  she 
met  this  man.  Sylvia  could  not  penetrate  the  mascu- 
line disguises  any  quicker  than  her  sister,  but  Sylvia  was 
not  under  bonds  and  had  a  most  uncomfortable  way  of 
jumping  to  conclusions  and  proclaiming  them. 

Any  further  conjectures  on  this  point  were  cut  short 
a  little  later  by  the  arrival  of  Sylvia  and  Penelly.  They 
were  driven  up  from  the  station  in  a  hack,  and  Kate 
heard  them  chattering  and  laughing  in  the  wood  before 
the  vehicle  appeared.  Mr.  Journingham  had  been  so 
interested  in  himself  that  he  had  not  missed  Sylvia 
from  the  group. 

"Ah,  God  bless  me,  yes  !  "  he  said.  "Sylvia,  the  dear 
girl!     I  was  going  to  ask  what  had  become  of  her." 

The  amazement  of  the  dear  girl  was  outspoken. 
She  returned  his  salutation  by  open-eyed  frankness. 

"  You  almost  give  me  a  chill, "  she  said,  "  as  if  you  had 


214  THE  CONQUERING  OF  KATE 

risen  from  the  dead.  We  gave  you  up  and  mourned 
you  with  strict  propriety. " 

" Ha, ha !  You  did,  did  you?  Well,  I  flatter  myself, 
Miss  Sylvia,  that  though  sometimes  impeded  by  cir- 
cumstances, I  generally  arrive  before  it  is  too  late.  No, 
no,  my  dear  girl,  I  have  been  explaining  to  your  sister 
that  I  am  guiltless.  The  onus  prohandi — that's  a  legal 
term — is  on  the  United  States  mail  service.  There's  no 
anxiety  in  your  face  now,  I  am  glad  to  see,  and  no 
reason,  now  that  I  am  here,  why  everything  should  not 
go  as  merrily  as  the  proverbial  marriage  bell — ha,  ha  !  " 

Sylvia  looked  anxiously  into  her  sister's  face.  To 
that  searching  glance  there  was  no  answering  gleam  of 
merriment,  and  you  may  be  sure  that  at  the  first  oppor- 
tunity the  young  women  hurried  away  together  to  be 
out  of  hearing,  and  the  moment  they  were  alone  they 
faced  each  other  in  silence.  In  that  mute  preludium 
much  was  exchanged  that  subsequent  words  could  only 
clumsily  grasp  at. 

"What  are  you  going  to  do?"  asked  Sylvia  in  an 
intense  whisper,  in  which  were  condensed  alarm,  anxiety 
and  indignation. 

"There  appears  to  be  but  one  thing  to  do,  dear.  I 
cannot  undo  my  own  work." 

"It  is  not  done  yet,"  exclaimed  Sylvia.  "Don't  do 
it.  What  was  it  you  said  in  that  letter?  Oh,  Heavens, 
why  didn't  you  keep  a  copy  ?  You  can't  marry  that ! 
You  know  it  as  well  as  I  do.  If  you  have  not  the  moral 
courage  to  tell  him,  let  me  tell  him.  I  have  not  written 
any  letter,  and  I  fancy  he  need  not  always  arrive  in  time. 
'Onus  prohandi' — merciful  powers  !  " 

Kate  shook  her  head  slowly.  "I  know  how  you  feel, " 
she  said.  "If  you  had  written  the  letter  you  would 
feel  different.     Even  you  could  not  summon  a  man 


THE  ONUS  PROBANDI  215 

three  thousand  miles  to  tell  him  it  was  a  caprice  and  you 
did  not  know  yout  mind." 

"Yes,  I  could,"  replied  Sylvia,  "if  he  was  looming  up. 
What  did  he  say  about  it  ?  There  must  be  some  margin 
in  a  letter." 

"He  has  not  said  anything  about  it.  He  considers 
me  signed,  sealed  and  delivered." 

And  she  held  up  her  hand  with  the  ring  on  it. 

Sylvia  bent  forward  with  a  girl's  natural  eagerness  to 
look  at  it  and  then  immediately  recoiled  with  genuine 
surprise. 

"You  let  him  do  that ?    You  never  told  him ? " 

"He  took  me  at  my  word.  What  more  could  I  tell 
him?" 

"That  it  was  a  mistake;  an  imptdse;  that  you  wanted 
time  to  consider ;  that  you  had  offered  yourself  for  sale  and 
the  business  preliminaries  had  to  be  settled;  that  there 
are  two  persons  to  all  bargains;  that  you  are  a  grand- 
daughter of  Kate  Bussey,  and  not  a  sacrificial  lamb.  It 
seems  to  me  that  there  was  a  great  deal  to  tell  him. " 

While  she  was  speaking,  the  voice  of  Mr.  Journingham 
came  up  to  them  from  the  lower  hall: 

"  Kate,  Kate,  where  are  you  ? " 

Sylvia,  with  an  indignant  impulse,  lifted  her  foot  and 
gave  the  chamber  door  a  sudden  push.  It  went  shut  with 
a  bang  that  rattled  the  sash  a  little  and  made  Kate  start. 

"Let  the  Onus  Probandi  wait,"  said  Sylvia. 

Kate  had  made  a  little  cry  of  protest  and  in  a  moment 
her  sister's  arms  were  about  her. 

"Dear,"  said  Sylvia,  "you  cannot  do  it.  Your  own 
better  nature  has  found  a  voice  in  me.     Don't  scold  me. " 

"There  is  no  dependence  to  be  placed  on  my  better 
nature,"  said  Kate,  erect  and  white  and  helpless. 
"What  would  people  think  of  me  if  I  did  not. " 


2i6  THE  CONQUERING  OF  KATE 

Sylvia  stepped  away  as  if  to  get  a  more  exact  view  of 
the  remark. 

"People!  "  she  exclaimed;  "what  people?" 

"There  must  be  people,"  said  Kate,  "whose  respect 
is  worth  considering,  who  believe  that  I  have  inherited 
some  of  the  honour  and  staunchness  of  the  name  I  bear. 
I  should  not  like  to  disappoint  them  utterly,  merely  for 
my  own  convenience." 

Sylvia  turned  her  head  in  the  direction  of  her  sister's 
gaze  out  of  the  window,  as  if  to  see  who  the  people  were. 
But  there  was  nothing  visible  in  the  western  vista  but 
vague  opaline  clouds  sailing  slowly  over  shadowy  and 
receding  fields. 

"Oh,  do  try  and  look  at  the  matter  as  if  you  still  were 
a  free  agent,  dear,"  she  said.  "What  would  people 
think  if  you  didn't  ?  What  if  this  man  should  turn  out 
to  be  something  dreadful — would  you  still  be  held  by  a 
careless  word  written  in  a  moment  of  distress?" 

"Oh,  don't ! "  cried  Kate.  "  It  is  not  a  case  of  imagina- 
tion, but  of  plain  keeping  my  word. " 

"  But  you  do  not  answer  my  question. " 

"It  answers  itself.  I  am  pledged  to  one  man.  If  he 
should  turn  out  to  be  another,  I  think  I  should  be 
excused." 

"Then,"  said  Sylvia  eagerly,  "that  ought  to  settle  it. 
He  has.     He  has  come  out  in  sheep's  clothing. " 

Then  there  came  a  rap  on  the  door  and  'Phonse  was 
there  with  his  master's  compliments  and  desired  that 
Miss  Bussey  would  come  down. 

Kate  put  her  hand  quickly  over  her  sister's  mouth 
and  said,  "I'll  go  down  and  see  what  he  wants." 

The  moment  she  was  gone,  Sylvia  dropped  into  a 
chair  and  an  irritating  impulse  opened  all  the  faucets 
of  her  emotion  into  her  eyes. 


CHAPTER  XIV 
Sisterly    Intervention 

Surely  no  gently  bred  woman  was  ever  made  more 
miserable  by  her  sensibilities  and  an  incertitude  of  will 
than  was  Kate  Bussey  now  in  the  new  conditions  of  her 
household,  and  curiously  enough  the  added  poignancy 
was  furnished  by  Mr.  Joumingham's  utter  inability  to 
perceive  it.  Kate  was  face  to  face  with  the  task  of 
explaining  in  some  mariner  to  him  why  she  wrote  her 
sudden  letter  of  acceptance.  It  was  a  humiliating  duty 
kept  continually  in  the  background  by  the  man  himself, 
who  was  entirely  indifferent  to  the  motives  so  long  as 
the  result  was  satisfactory. 

It  was  impossible  for  a  week  to  pass  without  the 
antagonisms  of  two  wholly  unlike  natures  making  them- 
selves felt  by  sensibility  writhing  under  the  domination 
of  an  utteriy  oblivious  egotism. 

Never  in  Mr.  Joiimingham's  experience  had  he  found 
himself  in  a  place  so  wholly  devoid  of  all  the  stimuH  of 
an  artificial  existence.  Nothing  but  the  hallucination 
of  a  passion  come  rather  late  in  life,  and,  as  is  usual  in 
such  tardy  cases,  taking  unreasonable  possession  of  all 
his  faculties,  could  have  made  him  endure  the  dull 
isolation,  the  primitive  simpUcity  and  the  dead  common- 
place of  such  a  sojourn.  The  ardour  of  his  former  visit, 
when  he  had  the  inc^tive  of  pursuit,  was  gone  now  that 
he  possessed,  and  scarcely  anything  remained  but  a 

217 


2i8  THE  CONQUERING  OF  KATE 

dull  impatience  to  get  away  with  his  prize  and 
exhibit  it. 

But  the  prize  fought  adroitly  for  time  and  insisted 
upon  having  the  momentous  event  governed  by  slow 
decorum.  There  was  a  weak  admission  on  her  part 
that  it  was  inevitable,  but  she  was  determined  it  should 
not  be  precipitate. 

Do  his  best,  the  guest  could  not  with  artificial  bon- 
homie quite  disguise  to  two  such  sharp-eyed  women  as 
Sylvia  and  Kate  that  he  was  miserably  out  of  his  element. 
All  that  was  transcendently  lovely  and  alluring  in  the 
sequestered  home  life  was  appallingly  platitudinous  and 
wearisome  to  a  nature  that  had  depended  altogether  on 
another  order  of  stimuli,  and  Nature  herself  seemed  to 
be  reciprocal  in  her  dislike  of  him  and  missed  no  oppor- 
tunity to  persecute  him.  She  has  a  thousand  petty 
means  of  annoyance  at  her  disposal  which  she  never 
shows  to  those  whose  great  love  for  her  has  made  them 
immune. 

Kate  Bussey  deserved  such  praise  for  her  endeavours 
to  ameliorate  his  ennui  with  all  the  means  at  her  disposal 
as  became  a  gentle  and  hospitable  lady.  But  she  soon 
became  aware  of  the  lurking  futility  of  it.  Poor  girl ! 
her  resources  were  limited,  and  did  not  extend  much 
beyond  those  that  Nature  placed  at  her  disposal.  She 
thought  that,  like  herself,  he  would  be  always  glad  to 
see  the  Kitchomony.  "The  walks,"  she  said,  "are 
our  chief  delight,"  as  she  led  him  away  to  the  river. 
But  she  found  that  the  walks  were  suddenly  beset  with 
new  annoyances.  The  blackberry  vines  clutched  at  his 
ankles  with  sudden  viciousness.  He  had  to  stop  and 
disentangle  himself  repeatedly  with  what  sounded  like 
sotto  voce  imprecations.  He  carried  a  palm-leaf  fan  and 
an  umbrella  and  kept  the  fan  flourishing,  for  the  bees 


SISTERLY  INTERVENTION  219 

and  the  late  summer  flies  followed  him.  Kate  came  to 
the  enclosure  where  her  grandmother's  monument  stood 
and  she  pointed  it  out  to  him.  He  flourished  his  fan 
and  remarked:  "What  an  interesting  custom — keep- 
ing the  remains  of  one's  ancestors  on  the  estate.  I 
should  think  it  would  become  rather  disagreeable  in 
time.  My  dear,  I  think  there  are  less  insects  over  there 
by  the  cedars." 

"Mr.  Joumingham, "  she  replied,  "some  ancestors 
preserve  forever  our  interest  in  the  estate.  So  much 
do  I  owe  to  them  that  I  intend  to  redeem  and  beautify 
it.  I  suppose  it  will  shock  you,  but  I  intend  to  become  a 
practical  woman." 

"  I  assure  you  it  delights  me,  for  I  am  a  practical  man 
myself. " 

"I  am  heartily  glad  to  hear  it,"  she  said,  "for  I  shall 
want  a  practical  man.  There  is  a  great  deal  of  work  to 
be  done  on  the  place  and  I  shall  never  be  able  to  do  it 
alone. " 

"  No,  indeed;  I  should  think  not — with  those  beautiful 
hands.  You  must  let  me  do  it,  my  dear.  What  did 
you  propose  to  do  first .'"' 

"  I  propose  to  ptdl  those  stumps  in  the  South  Grove." 

"  Ha,  ha !  Now  that's  capital !  By  Jove,  it's  really  a 
good  idea,  don't  you  know.  But  your  ideas  will  change, 
my  dear,  believe  me,  before  we  get  back  from  England — 
if  you  should  ever  desire  to  come  back,  or  my  friends  in 
London  will  permit  you  to  come  back.  You  had  better 
leave  all  those  practical  matters  to  me,  my  dear.  You 
trust  me.  You  do,  don't  you  ?  I  need  not  remind  you 
that  in  England  a  woman  places  herself  in  the  hands  of 
her  husband  implicitly  in  these  matters.  Of  course, 
with  faith  and  confidence  in  his  larger  knowledge  of  the 
world ;  you  do,  do  you  not  ? " 


2  20  THE  CONQUERING  OF  KATE 

" I  am  afraid, "  said  Kate,  "that  the  American  woman 
does  not  relinquish  her  individuality  so  readily.  She 
expects  to  have  ideas  of  her  own. " 

"Yes,  and  very  delightful  ideas  they  usually  are,  I 
assure  you.  But  you  have  never  been  abroad,  my  dear. 
You  have  no  conception  how  large  and  beautiful  the 
world  is  into  which  you  are  about  to  step,  quite  royally, 
I  assure  you.  By  the  way,  I  took  the  liberty  of  sending 
Pierson  after  a  team.  He  seemed  to  know  of  a  good 
one  and  I  expect  it  here  on  trial.  I  wonder  if  this  coat 
will  be  just  the  thing  for  a  drive?  You  will  pardon  me, 
but  one  does  not  know  just  how  to  dress  in  this  climate, 
and  I  think  perhaps  I  had  better  slip  on  a  dark  coat. 
What  do  you  think?  'Phonse  says  this  coat  becomes 
me,  but  he  is  an  inveterate  liar,  and  I  have  a  feeling  that 
it  is  badly  wrinkled  in  the  back.  Oh,  that  reminds  me  : 
As  Pierson  is  to  drive,  I  have  taken  the  liberty  of  having 
'Phonse  lay  out  a  blue  coat  for  him.  It  has  a  small  white 
braid  on  it.  I  fancy  it  will  fit  him.  It  is  part  of  a 
former  coachman's  outfit.  Pierson's  general  appearance 
with  a  whip  is  hardly  respectful  to  you,  my  dear. " 

The  bent  of  her  companion's  mind  annoyed  her  a 
little.  "Mr,  Joumingham,"  she  said,  "let  us  understand 
each  other.  Did  you  get  the  impression  from  my  letter 
that  you  were  to  come  and  fetch  me  to  England?" 

His  effort  to  be  jocular  only  enhanced  her  irritation, 

"By  Jove,"  he  said,  "the  predominant  feeling,  I  think, 
was,  that  I  was  being  fetched  to  the  States,  nolens 
volens,  and  here  I  am.  You  did  not  intimate  in  your 
letter  that  my  loyalty  to  you  depended  on  my  sacri- 
ficing my  loyalty  to  the  tight  little  Isle,  did  you?" 

"The  question  of  loyalty  did  not  enter  my  mind," 
said  Kate.  "You  made  me  an  honourable  offer  before 
you  went  away.     Circumstances  induced  me  to  change 


SISTERLY  INTERVENTION  221 

my  mind  and  accept  it  later.  I  am  afraid  you  will 
find  an  American  woman  more  practical  than  you 
suspected." 

"My  dear  Miss  Kate,  I  have  a  constitutional  aversion 
to  bothering  about  circumstances.  I  accept  results. 
You  are  mine.  Everything  else  is  trivial.  I  don't 
think  you  quite  caught  what  I  said  about  Pierson." 

"Yes,  I  did.  Pierson  will  not  wear  the  coat  if  it  is  a 
livery.  Even  our  servants  are  practical.  I  don't  think 
you  quite  caught  my  desire  to  talk  about  ourselves 
instead  of  Pierson." 

"Ha,  ha!  Now  that's  not  bad,  my  dear."  Then  he 
took  her  hand  and  looked  admiringly  at  the  ring. 

"Pretty  good  guess,  that,  for  a  fit,"  he  said.  "What 
did  your  aunt  think  of  it?" 

A  little  bit  of  irony  crept  into  her  answer  in  spite  of 
her. 

"Her  eyesight  is  not  as  good  as  yours,"  she  said, 
"and  I  do  not  think  she  recognized  the  intrinsic  value 
of  it." 

He  was  still  regarding  it  as  he  rejoined: 

"Thirty-five  pounds — a  mere  bagatelle,  I  assure  you. 
It  is  the  sentiment  of  it  that  I  value." 

"Oh,  I  haven't  heard  anything  about  the  sentiment 
of  it;  and  to  tell  you  the  truth,  Mr.  Journingham,  I've 
half  a  mind  to  take  it  off  till  I  do." 

The  repetition  of  such  scenes,  in  which  the  man  and 
woman  played  at  confidence  and  drifted  apart,  bristling 
with  each  other's  arrows,  was  not  likely  to  become 
more  pleasant  with  time.  Kate's  one  confidante  was 
her  sister,  and  Sylvia's  sympathies  were  also  apt  to  be 
barbed. 

"Before  I  would  be  jollied  in  such  a  way,"  she  said, 
"I'd  resort  to  violence." 


222  THE  CONQUERING  OF  KATE 

Kate  did  not  know  the  word.  "Jollied?"  she  said. 
"What  do  you  mean?" 

"Made  a  fool  of — that's  the  brutal  English  of  it. 
Wait  till  you  are  delivered.  If  he  is  so  egregious  in 
white  flannels,  what  will  he  be  in  a  proprietary  dress- 
coat?  It  makes  me  shudder  for  you.  Do  you  want 
my  advice — get  Aunty  to  carry  on  the  negotiations. 
Withdraw  and  let  her  an"ange  the  preliminaries,  if  you 
desire  to  escape  from  the  net  of  the  fowler.  You  let  her 
do  it  once  before  and  it  worked  like  a  charm.  She  will 
put  on  her  Dolly  Madison  black  silk  and  light  thp 
candelabra  in  the  back  parlour  and  drive  him  out  of  the 
country,  but  you  must  give  her  carte  blanche.  She 
must  tell  him  that  you  are  not  marrying  for  love  (he'll 
never  believe  it),  but  because  w^e  are  up  to  our  ears  in 
debt,  and — what  does  he  propose  to  do  about  it?" 

Just  at  this  point  a  sudden  idea  popped  into  the 
volatile  mind  of  Sylvia.  She  opened  her  eyes  and 
clapped  her  hands: 

"Oh,"  she  cried,  "I  have  it.  Refer  him  to  your 
attorney.  Why  didn't  we  think  of  that  before?  It's 
genuinely  English — settlements  they  call  it,  and  your 
attorney  is  your  dear  friend  and  adviser  and  is  under 
bonds  like  yourself.  What  have  we  been  thinking 
about.  Send  for  the  Judge,  Kate,  and  put  yourself  in 
his  hands." 

"I  am  afraid,"  replied  Kate  timidly,  "that  it  is  not  a 
matter  for  a  lawyer.  As  it  appears  to  me,  it  is  simply  a 
question  of  whether  a  Bussey  keeps  her  word." 

"I  am  as  much  of  a  Bussey  as  you  are,"  exclaimed 
Sylvia,  "but  it  does  not  follow  that  I  am  a  worm  to  be 
picked  up  without  a  squirm  by  the  first  cock  robin  that 
comes  my  way.  No  more  are  you.  If  I  had  written 
forty  letters  to  that  man,  I'd  give  him  to  understand 


SISTERLY  INTERVENTION  233 

very  promptly  that  they  were  conditional  and  not  final ; 
that  they  implied  mutual  concessions  and  presupposed 
him  to  be  a  man,  but  now  that  he  has  come  out  in  the 
thinnest  of  disguises  I  have  taken  cotmsel  of  my  sister 
and  my  lawyer.  Oh,  Kate,  let  me  go  for  the  Judge  this 
minute." 

It  was  not  long  after,  and  Judge  Heckshent  was  lying 
outstretched  on  his  bed,  when  Sylvia  set  out  upon  what 
she  conceived  to  be  an  urgent  mission  in  behalf  of  her 
sister.  A  bundle  of  legal  papers  lay  beside  him,  but  his 
mind  wandered  away  from  them  and  he  sighed  heavily 
as  he  looked  out  the  open  window  across  to  the  Bussey 
domain.  Presently  Folingsby  came  in  without  knock- 
ing, wearing  a  wide-awake  hat  and  carrying  a  dog-whip 
in  his  hands. 

"Got  suthin'  to  say  to  me.  Dad?" 

"Yes;  turn  the  key  in  the  door  and  sit  down  here." 

The  young  man  did  as  he  was  told,  falling  into  his 
accustomed  attitude  of  indiflEerence,  with  his  legs 
stretched  out  divergently. 

"Suke  Turck  has  been  to  see  me,"  said  his  father. 
"I  suppose  she  has  told  you." 

"Yes,  she  told  me.     What's  to  do?" 

"It's  a  nasty  piece  of  business.  What  do  you  pro- 
pose to  do  about  it?" 

"I  ain't  doin'  anything  particular.  Mebbe  you  can 
do  suthin'." 

"What  do  you  expect  me  to  do?"  asked  his  father. 
"The  girl  says  you  promised  to  marry  her." 

"Shucks,  there  ain't  no  damage  done.  I  calculate 
she  s'pects  to  euchre  you.     How  much  did  she  want?" 

"My  son,"  said  the  Judge  deliberately,  "it  is  time 
that  yoU  and  I  had  a  settlement.  I  have  had  a  kind  of 
warning  that  my  affairs  ought  to  be  put  in  shape.     I 


224  THE  CONQUERING  OF  KATE 

suppose  you  know  that  you  are  a  disgrace  to  your 
father  and  that  I  must  protect  myself  from  you." 

"No,  I  don't  figger  much  on  your  settlements  with 
me.  I  never  did.  Generally  speakin',  you  always 
stood  in  my  way." 

His  father  looked  at  him  with  inexpressible  yearning 
and  pity  not  unmingled  with  a  speechless  indignation. 

The  language  has  no  phrases  in  which  we  can  set  the 
speechless  love  of  a  father,  baffled  and  impotent,  but 
ineradicable  and  fraught  with  something  like  loathing. 
This  mystery  of  the  human  progenitor,  face  to  face  with 
his  own  work  and  dismayed  by  it  while  drawn  to  it, 
baffles  us  with  its  antimonies  in  the  further  reaches  of 
our  nature. 

"I  cannot  appeal  to  your  sense  of  honour,  but  I  must 
tell  you  that  you  are  in  duty  bound  to  marry  that  girl 
and  abide  by  your  bargain." 

Folingsby  looked  up  with  a  crafty  half-smile. 

"I  guess  you  don't  want  it.  Dad.  What's  the  good  of 
sayin'  it.     She  ain't  my  kind." 

"No,"  said  his  father,  a  little  tremulously,  "I  think 
she  is  as  much  better  than  your  kind  as  simple  honesty 
and  fidelity  can  be.  I  shall  take  the  girl's  part.  She 
insists  on  your  keeping  your  word  with  her.  So  shall 
I.  Heaven  help  me,  if  there  is  a  chance  left  in  this 
world,  I  don't  want  to  rob  you  of  it.  Go  away  forever, 
Folingsby,"  he  said  with  something  like  a  sob.  "I 
cannot  clean  up  my  own  hfe  and  do  my  duty  with  you 
about.     You  lessen  the  time  that  I  have." 

"You  want  to  be  shut  of  me,"  said  Folingsby,  hanging 
his  head. 

"Yes,"  replied  his  father  with  a  manifest  effort  of 
will  that  ought  to  have  pierced  his  son's  heart.  "Yes, 
I  must  be  shut  of  you.     You  are  killing  me.     I  never 


SISTERLY  INTERVENTION  225 

could  understand  why  you  should,  though  as  God  is  my 
judge  I'd  die  happier  if  my  death  would  save  you. 
What  can  I  do  to  make  a  man  of  you?" 

"Well,  gimme  another  chance.  P'r'aps  if  I'm  off 
and  out  o'  your  sight  I'll  seem  to  be  more  what  you 
want  o'  me.  There's  no  use  of  my  hangin'  round  here 
till  after  that  Englishman's  gone.  Mebbe  I  can  do 
suthin'  with  myself  if  you  give  me  a  show  and  money 
enough  for  a  starter." 

A  little  ray  of  hope  sprang  up  in  the  father's  heart 
that  perhaps  this  was  the  turning  point  in  his  son's 
career,  and  that  now  he  might  begin  anew  and  all  of  the 
reckless  past  would  be  forgotten.  He  laid  his  hand 
on  Folingsby's  shoulder  and  said: 

"My  son,  you  still  have  time  to  do  it,  and  while  I  see 
you  trying  to  do  right  you  know  you  have  a  father  to 
call  on.     Who  is  that?" 

A  vehicle  had  driven  up  to  the  gate  and  he  heard  it. 

"The  Bussey  phaeton,"  said  Folingsby.  "Miss 
Sylvia  is  in  it." 

His  father  got  up  wearily  and  went  to  the  window. 
Sylvia  called  to  him  cheerily:  "How  do  you  do, 
Judge?     Can  I  speak  to  you  a  moment?" 

"Yes,  my  dear.     Will  you  not  come  in ? " 

"No — please  come  down  a  moment." 

The  Judge  put  on  his  coat.  Folingsby  did  not  offer 
to  assist  him,  but  stood  at  the  window,  half  concealed, 
staring  at  Sylvia,  who  seemed  to  have  come  out  in  a 
new  and  crisp  summer  attire.  He  saw  his  father  go 
down  the  path  and  stand  a  moment  at  the  side  of  the 
vehicle  talking  with  the  girl.  A  moment  later  Sylvia 
assisted  the  old  gentleman  into  it  and  they  drove  away 
down  the  road. 

It  was  entirely  within  the  range  of  Folingsby's  nature 


226  THE  CONQUERING  OF  KATE 

to  connect  the  sudden  appearance  of  a  Bussey  with  his 
father's  unexpected  announcement,  and,  without  being 
aware  of  the  process  of  reasoning,  to  conclude  that  the 
Busseys  had  something  to  do  with  the  getting  rid  of  him. 
With  that  suspicion  firmly  fixed  in  his  mind  he  went  off 
to  hunt  up  his  mother, 

Sylvia  passed  out  of  sight  down  the  road  as  if  going 
to  the  village,  but  when  the  trees  had  hidden  her  from 
view  she  turned  in  at  the  meadows,  and  following  an 
old  road,  came  slowly  up  the  bluff  among  the  timber. 

"We  shall  not  be  disturbed  here,"  she  said,  "and  I 
have  a  deal  to  tell  you.  I  am  going  to  talk  to  you  as 
if  you  were  our  lawyer  and  adviser  and  guardian — as 
you  are." 

Then  and  there  the  girl  unbosomed  herself  to  the 
Judge.  She  told  him  without  reservation  the  whole 
private  history  of  the  Joumingham  affair.  With 
unmistakable  ingenuousness  she  bared  the  whole  busi- 
ness of  what  to  her  seemed  an  intolerable  injustice  to 
Kate,  and  you  may  be  sure  her  clear  vision  and  frank 
dislike  did  not  cloak  any  of  their  guest's  weaknesses 
and  pretensions.  She  must  have  grown  eloquent  and 
voluble  in  her  appeal  to  the  old  man,  for  he  listened  to 
her  in  a  reminiscent  spell  patiently  enough  and  letting 
the  ardour  of  the  girl  ring  some  far-away  tones  that  were 
strangely  sweet  in  his  memory  of  days  long  back — 
sunny  and  hopeful.  It  never  once  occurred  to  Sylvia, 
intent  only  on  saving  her  sister  from  what  seemed  to 
her  to  be  a  dire  fate,  that  the  man  she  was  appealing 
to  had  any  other  interest  in  the  matter  than  was  fur- 
nished by  her  anxiety.  She  did  not  stop  to  think  that 
the  Judge  must  have  hailed  the  marriage  of  Kate  to  a 
wealthy  Englishman  as  a  most  comfortable  relief  to 
himself  from  a  problem  that  had  vexed  him  for  years — 


SISTERLY  INTERVENTION  227 

clearing  up  once  and  forever  all  the  difficulties  that 
he  had  encountered  in  the  estate.  By  no  possibility 
could  this  girl,  steeped  so  thoroughly  in  her  sisteriy 
emotion,  have  thought  of  the  injustice  which  her  plea 
involved.  She  was  asking  the  Judge  to  forego  his 
interests  in  behalf  of  her  sister's  indiscretion  and  lend 
his  legal  acumen  to  the  destruction  of  the  only  hope 
he  had  of  being  adequately  reimbursed  for  his  years  of 
anxiety.  And  yet,  so  hungry  was  this  old  man's  heart 
for  just  this  warm  assault  that  Sylvia  was  making  upon 
it,  that  he  must  have  forgotten  his  legal  rights  and  let 
the  girl  get  hold  of  all  the  starved  sensibiHties  of  the 
man.  When  she  had  exhausted  herself  and  dashed 
away  a  little  drop  from  her  eye,  he  seemed  to  rouse  him- 
self from  a  reverie  and  said,  rather  as  if  making  an 
acknowledgment  to  the  past  than  as  recognizing  the 
grim  present: 

"Of  course,  she  must  not  marry  Mr.  Joumingham  if 
it  can  be  prevented." 

Whereupon  Sylvia  seized  his  wrinkled  hand  with 
both  her  own  and  cried:  "Oh,  can  it  be  prevented 
honourably  ? " 

He  was  thinking.  "My  child,"  he  said,  "I  am  afraid 
it  is  a  matter  outside  of  the  law  entirely.  It  is  not 
usual  for  a  woman  to  give  her  lawyer  power  of  attorney 
in  these  matters.  What  was  it  Kate  wrote  to  this 
gentleman?"" 

"I  don't  know,  I  am  sure.  She  does  not  know 
herself." 

"I  am  afraid  she  will  stand  to  it  like  a  Bussey,  my 
dear." 

"Yes,  indeed,"  cried  Sylvia;  "but  will  he  stand  to  it 
when  her  lawyer  faces  him  with  the  conditions.  Wait 
till    you   see  him.     He  wouldn't   stand   for  a  parlour 


228  THE  CONQUERING  OF  KATE 

forfeit  if  it  cost  him  anything,  or  else  I  am  a 
mole." 

The  Judge  laughed  quietly  in  spite  of  himself.  Such 
a  determined  dislike  was  in  some  way  refreshing  to  his 
careworn  faculties. 

"My  dear,"  he  said  finally,  "I  understand  you,  and 
I  will  see  Mr.  Journingham  as  Kate's  representative  at 
once.  It  had  better  be  to-morrow.  Kate  can  inform 
him  of  my  visit  and  prepare  his  mind.  Let  us  hope  for 
some  way  out  of  it,  my  child." 

Her  gratitude  as  she  parted  with  him  irradiated  and 
melted  him. 

"Dear  old  Guardy,"  she  said,  as  she  flung  her  arms 
about  him,  "you  are  the  only  one  left  to  whom  we  can 
go  and  we  have  never  come  to  you  in  vain." 

Then  she  kissed  him  and  drove  rapidly  away,  feeling 
that  she  had  in  some  way  intercepted  fate  itself. 


CHAPTER  XV 

A    Thunderstorm 

Mr.  Journingham  did  not  forego  his  intention  of 
bringing  the  disreputable  United  States  mail  to  book,  and 
on  one  of  his  solitary  visits  to  the  village  he  met  Penelly 
Seton.  They  had  a  long  conversation,  and  Mr.  Journing- 
ham learned  something  from  her  that  surprised  him.  The 
information  which  she  gave  him  was  used  later,  as  will 
be  seen.  The  day  after  Sylvia's  visit  to  the  Judge  the 
ladies  of  the  Grange  were  sitting  in  the  afternoon  on  the 
veranda  watching  a  northwestern  thunderstorm  com- 
ing up  ominously,  with  deep  mutterings  and  electric 
gleams.  A  thunderstorm  was  one  of  their  few  luxuries, 
and  they  always  reveled  in-  the  stmmier  drama  of  the 
skies,  its  very  violence  and  copiousness  awakening 
some  kind  of  glad  awe.  Sylvia  had  called  to  her  sister 
to  come  down  and  see  the  storm,  and  quickly  discovering 
that  Mr.  Journingham  was  shy  of  it,  she  allowed  a  little 
bravado  to  embellish  her  admiration.  To  a  stranger  an 
active  storm  in  that  region  was  not  likely  to  inspire 
sentiments  of  delight,  particularly  if  that  stranger  was  a 
metropolitan;  and  when  the  flashes  came  sharp  and 
blinding,  with  an  almost  simultaneous  crack  as  if  a 
measureless  rifle  had  split  the  heavens,  he  proposed  as 
a  mere  matter  of  prudence  that  they  come  inside.  But 
Sylvia  wotild  not  miss  it  for  the  world.  She  sat  down 
on  the  edge  of  the  step  and  became  an  overenthusiastic 
spectator,  clapping  her  hands  at  every  deafening  peal 

sag 


230  THE  CONQUERING  OF  KATE 

and  shouting  "Glory!"  when  it  seemed  as  if  the  atmos- 
phere had  ignited.  Presently  a  premonitory  wind 
began  to  blow,  heavy  with  piney  fragrance,  bending  the 
chestnuts  and  scattering  the  tassels.  A  fathomless, 
translucent  shadow  seemed  to  crawl  upon  the  world. 
It  was  full  of  scurrying  leaves  and  stems,  and  Sylvia  sat 
there  staring  into  it,  her  dress  fluttering  and  her  hair 
blowing 'about  her  face. 

"My  dear,"  said  Mr.  Joumingham  to  Kate,  who  was 
placidly  lying  back  in  a  steamer  chair  which  he  had 
provided  for  her,  "I  am  compelled  to  ask  you  to  retire 
into  the  house.  I  trust  that  you  will  regard  my  wishes. 
This  looks  like  one  of  your  American  tornadoes. " 

He  held  the  large  screen  door  partly  open  and  bent 
forward  to  escort  her.  As  he  did  so  a  vivid  flash  lit  him 
up  and  he  looked  rather  ghastly.  The  old  house  bent 
a  little  in  the  centre  under  the  weight  of  sound. 

"It  will  be  over  in  a  minute,"  answered  Kate.  "I 
should  not  like  to  miss  it. " 

"We  are  Indians,"  cried  Sylvia  defiantly— " see  God 
in  storms  and  hear  him  in  the  winds.  All  good  Christians 
get  under  the  bed. " 

A  moment  later  the  big  drops  began  to  patter  and 
the  women  came  inside  the  screen  door  and  stood  there 
watching  and  listening,  while  Mr.  Journingham  walked 
the  hall  and  set  his  growl  upon  it  all  as  "damnable 
•folly."  Still,  it  was  well  worth  seeing.  There  was 
something  exultant  and  refreshing  in  the  riotous  down- 
pour, and  it  only  lasted  five  minutes.  The  peals  sounded 
more  distant.  The  air  grew  more  bright.  A  golden 
radiance  fell  upon  everything,  and  it  rained  diamonds. 
At  the  height  of  it,  up  drove  Judge  Heckshent  to  remark 
as  the  women  came  out  to  meet  him,  "What  a  beautiful 
shower. " 


A  THUNDERSTORM  231 

When  the  commonplaces  were  over  he  said  he  had 
come  to  have  a  Httle  talk  with  Mr.  Joumingham,  and  if 
the  ladies  would  excuse  them  they  would  go  into  the 
parlour,  where  they  would  not  be  distuirbed.  And  at 
this  the  three  women  fled  discreetly  to  Kate's  room  and 
sat  there  with  the  door  ajar,  trying  their  best  to  feel  that 
the  beautiful  storm  had  blown  Judge  Heckshent  to  their 
assistance. 

"I  should  just  like  to  see  the  Onus  Probandi  at  the  bar 
of  justice,"  whispered  Sylvia.  "I  think  I'll  just  slip 
down  and  take  a  peep." 

"You  will  sit  still  and  behave  yourself,"  said  her 
aunt,  "and  try  and  understand  that  your  sister  has 
come  to  a  point  in  her  life  where  these  matters  must  be 
left  in  the  hands  of  discreet  and  honourable  gentlemen." 

The  Judge  sat  down  at  the  parlour  table,  laid  a  small 
packet  of  papers  in  front  of  him,  put  on  his  spectacles, 
and  then,  lying  back  in  his  chair,  cleared  his  throat, 
gave  his  neck  a  liberating  twitch  and  began  quite 
deliberately. 

"Mr.  Joumingham,"  he  said,  "I  have  been  the 
attorney  for  this  family  for  many  years.  The  grand- 
mother of  Miss  Kate  Bussey  honoured  me  with  her 
confidence  and  intrusted  me  with  her  legal  business. 
In  addition  to  that,  when  Miss  Bussey 's  father  was 
dying,  he  placed  me  under  a  solemn  pledge  to  be  a 
guardian  of  his  daughters,  who  have  not  failed  to  consult 
me  in  all  matters  appertaining  to  the  family  and  the 
estate.  You  will  therefore  see  that  there  is  no  impro- 
priety in  my  speaking  to  you  of  the  proposed  alliance 
of  this  house  with  yours.  You  know,  I  suppose,  that 
the  estate  is  heavily  encumbered?" 

"I  am  aware,"  said  Mr.  Joumingham,  "that  you  hold 
the  bond,  and  I  can  well  understand  that  you  take  a 


232  THE  CONQUERING  OF  KATE 

personal  interest  in  the  property.  My  interest  is  not 
with  the  realty. " 

The  Judge  winced  a  little  at  the  imputation  of  this 
speech,  but  he  merely  gave  his  neck  another  twitch  and 
proceeded  deliberately : 

"  Had  my  interest  in  the  estate  been  greater, "  he  said, 
"than  my  fealty  to  these  girls,  and  the  sacred  promise 
to  their  father,  the  title  would  have  passed  long  ago. 
You  are  possibly  doing  me  a  great  injustice. " 

"If  you  will  pardon  me.  Judge,"  said  Mr.  Jouming- 
ham,  with  considerable  self-complacency,  "I  do  not 
exactly  see  that  I  am  under  any  obligation  to  consider 
your  interests  in  the  matter.  Will  you  explain 
yourself?" 

"I  will  try  to  do  so,  sir,"  replied  the  Judge  with  con- 
trasting softness  of  speech.  "It  is  well,  perhaps,  for  you 
to  understand  clearly  at  the  outset  that  Miss  Bussey's 
inclination  to  accede  to  your  wishes,  if  indeed  she  has 
committed  herself  finally,  was  induced  primarily  by  a 
desire  to  save  the  estate,  rather  than  by  any  romantic 
preference  in  the  matter.  If  you  will  get  that  well 
understood,  it  will  enable  us  to  discuss  the  matter  more 
practically. " 

At  this  Mr.  Journingham  flared  a  little. 

"I  am  bound  to  tell  you,  sir,  that  if  there  is  any  mis- 
apprehension, it  is  on  your  part.  I  have  the  lady's 
personal  pledge  to  me  in  black  and  white,  and  I  resent 
%,ny  imputation  that  she  will  so  far  dishonour  herself 
as  to  ask  for  an  escape  through  her  attorney. " 

"Would  you  object  to  letting  her  attorney  see  that 
letter?"  asked  the  Judge  calmly. 

Mr.  Journingham  jumped  to  his  feet.  "You  astonish 
me,  sir !"  he  said,  as  he  buttoned  his  coat  over  his  ample 
breast.     "You  do  not  seem  to  be  aware  of  the  code 


A  THUNDERSTORM  233 

among  gentlemen,  who  do  not  show  the  private  letters 
of  a  lady." 

Mr.  Journingham  then  began  to  pace  about  in  the 
space  between  the  table  and  the  bay,  and  by  the  manner 
in  which  he  breathed  it  might  have  occurred  to  a  less 
guileless  observer  than  the  Judge  that  he  was  pumping 
up  his  indignation. 

"That  being  the  code,"  said  the  Judge,  "among 
gentlemen,  let  me  request  that  you  will  not  again  refer 
to  a  matter  which  cannot  be  put  in  evidence  among 
lawyers.  As  Miss  Bussey's  adviser,  I  shall  feel  bound 
to  tell  her  that  her  commitment  under  stress  to  some 
kind  of  provisional  reopening  of  sentimental  relations 
with  you  has  no  legal  weight  whatever,  and  is  liable  to 
readjustment  whenever  under  more  mature  guidance 
she  shall  take  into  view  all  the  interests  that  are  to  be 
conserved." 

Mr.  Journingham,  who  had  by  this  time  worked  him- 
self into  a  purplish  condition  of  inflation,  turned  squarely 
upon  the  Judge  with  his  ample  chest-front  rounded  out 
portentously.  The  Judge  held  up  his  hand  as  calmly 
as  if  upon  the  bench  and  addressing  a  culprit. 

"One  word  more,"  he  said,  "before  you  reply.  Miss 
Bussey  from  childhood  has  relied  upon  my  advice,  and  I 
have  no  reason  to  believe  that  she  will  not  be  guided  by 
it  in  this  instance.  You  ought  to  see  that  the  nature  of 
^that  advice  will  be  shaped  by  your  disposition  to  regard 
Miss  Bussey's  interests  rather  than  your  own. " 

The  Judge  up  to  this  point  felt  and  spoke  like  a  man 
who  instinctively  knows  his  antagonist's  weaknesses. 
He  was  aggravatingly  deliberate  and  calmly  superior, 
as  one  who  had  the  whip-hand.  But  the  slow,  incisive 
and  formal  manner  was  like  a  whip-lash  to  his  companion, 
who  was  now  standing  rather  toweringly  in  front  of  him. 


234  THE  CONQUERING  OF  KATE 

"By  Heavens,  sir!"  said  the  Englishman,  "I  will  not 
have  it.  It  does  not  become  me  as  the  defender  of  that 
lady's  purity  of  purpose  to  hear  her  integrity  of  character 
dragged  down  to  the  pettifogging  level  of  a  country 
attorney.  Who  are  you,  sir,  to  impugn  the  loyalty  of  a 
lady  with  your  infernal  disinterestedness.  By  what 
right  do  you  talk  to  me  of  your  interest  in  the  family, 
when  your  interest  is  entirely  in  this  worthless  domain 
for  which  you  expect  to  get  the  highest  price  and  use 
your  advice  with  a  simple  pure-minded  lady  to  your  own 
profit.  By  the  gods,  sir,  I  should  be  warranted  in  any 
circle  of  gentlemen  in  demanding  an  apology.  Yes,  I 
would,  sir — when  you  bring  the  faith  and  loyalty  of  a 
lady  who  is  to  be  my  wife  into  question. " 

Mr.  Joumingham  was  now  pumped  to  high  pressure, 
and  as  his  indignation  rose  in  apparent  obedience  to 
voice  and  gesture  the  Judge  watched  the  process  with 
equanimity.  He  had  seen  it  done  before,  and  sat  it  out 
calmly,  to  deliver  sentence  when  it  was  over. 

"Permit  me  to  remind  you,  sir,"  said  Mr.  Jouming- 
ham, with  a  resonance  that  sounded  at  the  moment  like 
virtuous  indignation,  "permit  me  to  remind  you,  that 
your  relation  to  this  affair  will  not  bear  examination. 
I  understand  that  your  son  has  for  years  been  encouraged 
to  look  upon  Miss  Bussey  as  his  by  rights — he  went  so 
far  as  to  thrust  his  proposal  upon  her,  and  it  does  not 
seem  to  occur  to  you  that  if  she  was  under  any  stress,  as 
you  call  it,  it  was  the  stress  of  that  young  man's  advances, 
and  like  any  lady  in  distress  she  turned  to  a  gentleman 
for  rescue.  I  can  understand  that  you  would  lend  your- 
self to  your  son's  indiscretions  with  a  father's  weakness, 
but  you  must  not  suppose,  sir,  that  I  am  in  any  measure 
disposed  to  condone  his  crimes,  and  when  my  letters 
disappeared  from  the  post-office  I  believe  as  a  lawyer 


A  THUNDERSTORM  235 

you  can  see  that  a  gentleman  brought  up  under  English 
laws  is  not  going  to  sentimentalize  over  a  plain  duty  to 
himself  and  the  community.  I  propose,  sir,  to  put  the 
United  States  postal  authorities  upon  the  track  of  your 
son.  I  shall  leave  you  to  judge  of  the  disinterestedness 
of  your  position  when  all  the  facts  are  known.  By  the 
gods,  sir,  I  am  not  so  ignorant  of  law  as  you  suppose, 
and  I  propose  to  assume  the  offensive  whenever  it 
becomes  necessary  to  vindicate  the  honour  of  a  lady — a 
lady,  sir,  let  me  remind  you  again,  who  is  to  become 
my  wife. " 

During  this  delivery  the  Judge  appeared  to  shrink  a 
little.  The  whip  seemed  to  have  passed  from  his  hands. 
His  lip  trembled  a  little  and  he  said  feebly: 

"Very  well,  Mr.  Joumingham,  you  have  introduced  a 
subject  quite  foreign  to  the  matter  in  hand,  and  I  cannot 
help  telling  you  that  you  have  introduced  it  Uke  a  bully. 
I  cannot  see  that  there  is  anything  more  to  be  said  on 
my  part." 

He  got  up  slowly,  almost  painfully. 

"No,  I  should  say  not,"  replied  Mr.  Journingham, 
still  pacing.  "The  less  said,  the  better,  perhaps,  on 
your  part." 

With  this  gust  he  seemed  to  have  extinguished  the 
Judge,  who  made  him  a  low  and  tremulous  bow  and  went 
slowly  out  through  the  hall,  cHmbed  into  his  vehicle 
and  drove  away,  Mr.  Joumingham  following  him  out 
and  trying  to  expend  the  reserve  of  his  virtuous  indigna- 
tion in  somewhat  violent  walking  on  the  veranda. 

Meanwhile,  up  in  Kate's  room,  Sylvia  had  been  vin- 
dicating her  affectionate  interference  in  Kate's  behalf 
by  praising  the  Judge. 

"I  hope,  dear,"  she  said,  "that  you  will  brighten  up 
now  that  your  affairs  are  in  the  hands  of  a  competent 


236  THE  CONQUERING  OF  KATE 

attorney  who  has  given  Mr.  Joumingham  clearly  to 
understand  what  you  cotdd  never  make  him  under- 
stand— the  real  state  of  your  feelings." 

"As  if  Kate  could  not  speak  her  mind  without  getting 
an  attorney, "  said  Aunt  Sussex.  "  I  think  she  has  been 
brought  up  to  understand  what  a  woman's  duties  and 
rights  are  when  she  is  about  to  be  married.  If  she 
cannot  inform  Mr.  Joumingham  of  them,  she  had  better 
let  me  do  it.  " 

"That's  just  what  I  told  her,"  said  Sylvia;  "and  I 
reminded  her  of  how  well  you  succeeded  with  Mr. 
Burt. " 

Kate  was  reticent  and  did  not  express  an  opinion. 
A  moment  later  she  glanced  out  of  the  window  and  saw 
the  Judge  getting  wearily  into  his  vehicle.  Something 
in  his  appearance  gave  her  an  untranslatable 
impression  of  his  helplessness  if  not  of  collapse, 
and  the  thought  that  perhaps  his  visit  had  been 
futile  made  her  toss  her  head  with  a  new  air  of 
defiance  and  resolution.  She  heard  the  emphatic 
tread  of  Mr,  Joumingham  on  the  veranda  which  had 
the  sound  of  a  dominating  drum-beat.  Just  then 
Pierson  drove  up  to  the  house  with  the  mail  satchel, 
and  the  expectation  of  letters  drove  everything  else 
from  her  mind  for  the  moment.  Sylvia  ran  down  and 
brought  back  two  missives.  One  was  for  Aunt  Sussex 
and  the  other  one  for  Kate. 

"I'll  retire,"  Sylvia  said,  "until  you  have  made  up 
your  minds  how  much  I  am  entitled  to.  Don't  be 
worried — his  lordship  is  reading  his  own.  He  has  half 
a  score." 

So  the  group  scattered,  and  when  the  doors  were  shut 
Kate  Bussey  tore  open  her  letter  and  read  it  with  curious 
interest : 


A  THUNDERSTORM  237 

"  North  Woods,  N.  Y. 
"Miss  ELate  Bussey. 

"  Honoured  Mistress:  I  feel  that  it  is  due  to  you  that 
I  make  explanation  of  my  prolonged  absence,  after  the 
promise  I  made  you.  Let  me  say  at  once  that  it  is  )'^our 
service  that  has  led  me  on  this  wild  and  strangely  hur- 
ried journey.  Had  you  not  placed  unexpected  confi- 
dence in  me  and  confided  to  my  endeavours  your  little 
capital,  I  feel  sure  that  my  own  ambition  would  not  have 
sufficed  to  carry  me  so  far  over  this  rough  venture,  but 
I  must  tell  you  that,  in  spite  of  everything,  your  service 
seems  to  have  brought  me  unexpected  good  fortune. 
I  don't  know  how  long  it  will  last,  but  it  looks  at  this 
moment  as  if  I  had  been  thrust  by  an  unseen  hand  into 
the  very  forefront  of  one  of  the  most  fortuitous  opera- 
tions of  this  speculative  age.  The  New  York  syndicate 
that  is  buying  up  all  spruce  lands  is  probably  the  unwit- 
ting instrument  of  Providence  in  your  behalf.  At  all 
events,  I  have  made  the  most  of  it,  with  a  kind  of  impa- 
tient distrust  in  its  continuance.  I  have  slept  upon  the 
ground  after  riding  all  day,  and  lived  on  army  fare,  to 
be  first  on  the  spot.  My  noble  horse  gave  out  at  South 
Mountain  three  days  ago — died  from  fatigue.  Kindly 
absolve  me  by  believing  that  he  died  in  your  service, 
and  by  reflecting  that  if  a  horse  can  set  such  an  example, 
what  may  not  a  man  do.  Advise  me  through  your 
attorney  what  disposition  I  am  to  make  of  the  money 
that  has  accumulated  on  your  investment.  I  trust  that 
the  condition  of  the  Catalpas  is  not  allowed  to  fall  back. 
If  you  can  hold  the  place  in  statu  qtw,  as  it  were,  until  I 
can  get  my  hand  upon  it  again,  I  feel  sure  that  I  shall  be 
able  in  time  to  bring  it  up  to  your  own  and  your 
grandmother's  ideal. 

"  My  friend  Mr.  Brahm  wrote  me  from  New  York  last 


238  THE  CONQUERING  OF  KATE 

week  and  spoke  glowingly  of  his  visit  to  the  Grange. 
You  see,  there  is  a  sort  of  romantic  spell  about  the  place, 
and  once  felt,  one  never  escapes  from  it  unless  one  is  such 
a  drudge  as  your  obedient  servant, 

"John  Burt." 

As  she  read  the  letter  with  more  eagerness  than  she 
intended,  something  slipped  out  of  it  and  fluttered  to 
the  floor.  At  the  same  moment  the  door  opened  and 
Sylvia  cried: 

"  Oh,  there's  a  picture  in  it !  Let  me  see  it,"  and  with 
the  same  girlish  impulse  she  picked  it  up  in  spite  of 
Kate's  mute  protest. 

"What  a  disreputable  tramp!  He  looks  like  a 
mountain  gujde,"  Sylvia  continued;  "and,  did  you  ever ! 
if  he  hasn't  got  some  flowers  in  his  buttonhole.  Wait 
till  I  get  the  glass,"  and  out  she  flounced,  utterly  regard- 
less of  Kate's  call  to  her  to  come  back.  A  moment 
later  she  reappeared  carrying  a  brass-rimmed  lens,  and 
going  to  the  window  began  to  examine  the  picture  criti- 
cally, paying  no  attention  to  the  irritation  which  her 
actions  created  in  Kate.  "Just  a  moment,  my  dear. 
I  know  the  buds,  and  they  are  fastened  with  a 
black  pin." 

At  this  Kate  snatched  the  picture  away,  and  the  play 
of  the  leopards  was  for  the  moment  interrupted  by  the 
entrance  of  Aunt  Sussex  bearing  a  letter  from  Mr.  Tony 
Brahm,  with  unmistakable  triumph. 

"  If  you  will  sit  down  and  behave  yourselves,"  she  said, 
"I  will  permit  you  to  read  this  letter,  which  breathes 
the  true  spirit  of  chivalrous  respect." 

But  instead  of  letting  them  read  it,  she  read  it  herself 
with  considerable  flourish,  interpolating  her  admiration 
at  every  convenient  place: 


A  THUNDERSTORM  239 

"University  Club,   New  York. 
"Miss  Sussex  Bussey : 

"  I  am  reminded  to-day  by  a  letter  from  my  dear  old 
chum,  John  Burt,  who  is  combining  wealth  and  headlong 
adventure  somewhere  in  the  wilderness,  that  I  haVe  not 
formally  acknowledged  to  you  the  pleasure  I  experienced 
in  meeting  with  a  live  representative  of  the  historic 
Busseys."  ("Doesn't  that  breathe  the  spirit  of  the  old 
regime  ?"  asked  Aunt  Sussex,  with  a  fine  glow  on  her  face.) 
"I  assure  you  I  recall  my  Httle  experience  at  your 
spacious  mansion  with  unfailing  delight,  and  I  sincerely 
trust  that  at  some  time  I  may  be  permitted  to  renew  and 
continue  the  acquaintanceship  so  auspiciously  begun 
under  your  roof  tree.  Will  you  kindly  convey  to  Miss 
Sylvia  the  earnest  expression  of  my  warmest  devotion. 
Kindly  transmit  to  me  any  indication  on  Miss  Sylvia's 
part  that  I  can  be  of  service  to  her  here  in  the  me- 
tropolis. Tony  Bhahm." 

Sylvia  clapped  her  hands.  "Dear  old  brute,"  she 
cried;  "the  only  paragon  of  a  man  I  ever  met  who 
didn't  understand  that  my  sister  is  of  the  first  impor- 
tance.    He  doesn't  even  mention  her." 

But  looking  quickly  at  her  sister,  and  not  seeing  any 
indication  of  a  similar  satisfaction  in  her  face,  she  felt 
a  little  ashamed  of  her  own  exultation  and  rushed  at 
her  headlong. 

"Dear,  dear,"  she  cried,  "do  brighten  up.  You 
ought  to  rejoice  that  Heaven  is  sending  us  help  from  all 
quarters." 

Kate  threw  her  head  back.     "Listen,"  she  said. 

The  heavy  thud  of  Mr.  Joumingham's  feet  came  to 
them  like  a  recurrent  stroke. 

"It    sounds    like    the   beat   of   doom,"   said    Kate. 


240  THE  CONQUERING  OF  KATE 

"That  step  marches  invincibly  over  hearts  and 
graves." 

"  Oh,  no,"  said  Sylvia;  "there  is  a  staunch  old  man  in 
the  way  and  I  thank  God  for  him.  He  at  least  has  come 
to  your  assistance." 

Kate  listened  again,  and  the  sound  seemed  to  stimulate 
her  resolution.     She  tossed  her  head  and  said : 

"I  don't  think  I  need  any  assistance.  I  have  not 
forgotten  the  name  I  bear,  and  I  have  work  to  do." 

"Where  are  you  going?"  asked  Sylvia. 

"I  am  going  down  to  face  my  doom — and  to  pull 
those  stumps  in  the  South  Grove." 

"Oh,  that  isn't  a  woman's  work,  dear.  Let  the  Onus 
Probaridi  pull  them." 

Then  the  consultation  was  broken  up  by  a  voice  from 
below  calling: 

"Kate,  Kate,  can  I  speak  to  you  a  moment?" 

And  with  a  prompt  obedience  that  irritated  Sylvia, 
Kate  went  down  to  meet  Mr.  Journingham.  He  was 
standing  at  the  far  comer  of  the  porch,  in  corduroy 
knickerbockers,  playing  with  a  handsome  silver-mounted 
English  fowling-piece,  which  he  tossed  about  as  if  to 
exhibit  his  familiarity  with  it. 

"Kate,  my  dear,"  he  said,  "your  lawyer  is  a  most 
extraordinary  person — really  a  most  impracticable  old 
man — hasn't  the  faintest  notion,  don't  you  know,  of  the 
noblesse  oblige  that  obtains  among  ladies  and  gentle- 
men in  their  unwritten  code — ^reminds  me,  I  don't  mind 
telling  you,  of  a  backwoods  Shylock  with  his  bond." 

This  easy  assumption  of  intellectual  and  social 
superiority,  set  in  a  large  and  rather  benignant  air  of 
patronage,  came  to  Kate  at  a  malapropos  moment. 
She  had  found  time  on  her  way  downstairs  to 
stop  at  a  desk  in  the  hall  and  dash  oflf  a  short  reply  to 


A  THUNDERSTORM  241 

John  Burt,  while  the  appeal  of  his  letter  was  warm  in 
her  mind: 

"Mr.  John  Burt:  I  have  to  thank  you  again  for  your 
disinterested  efforts.  You  deserve  a  higher  reward  than  I 
can  give  you.  Circumstances  have  made  it  necessary  for 
me  to  reconsider  all  my  plans  and  to  relieve  you  from 
any  further  solicitude  on  my  part.  If  you  will  communi- 
cate with  my  lawyer  in  regard  to  such  business  matters  as 
you  think  I  am  interested  in  he  will  make  further 
explanations,  and  my  aunt  has  written  to  Mr.  Brahm 
conveying  information  of  our  movements." 

She  called  to  Pierson  that  she  had  a  letter  to  mail 
when  he  went  to  town,  and  having  put  her  honour  into 
this  shape  she  felt  stronger ;  but  no  sooner  had  she  written 
the  letter  than  she  felt  that  she  had  aimed  a  blow  of 
unkindness  at  the  only  man  who  had  ever  risked  every- 
thing, even  his  life,  in  her  service,  and  now  to  have 
Mr.  Joumingham  affront  the  only  other  remaining 
friend  was  not  at  all  likely  to  assuage  her  conflicting 
feelings. 

"I  am  afraid,"  she  said,  "that  you  do  not  understand 
the  Judge  nor  our  relations  to  him." 

"Entirely,  entirely,  my  dear;  the  relations  of  an 
attorney  and  creditor — an  attorney  who  has  a  shrewd 
eye  on  his  own  interests.  You  see,  I  appear  to  some 
disadvantage,  for  I  am  only  your  everlasting  debtor, 
and  rather  glory  in  it,  by  Jove,  yes,  I  do.  And  of  course 
I  couldn't  hope  to  make  the  old  lawyer  see  that.  I 
don't  think  anybody  can  see  it  and  feel  it  as  we  do, 
my  dear." 

Kate  involuntarily  stepped  away  from  him  a  few 
inches  as  if  something  foreboding  and  inscrutable  had 


242  THE  CONQUERING  OF  KATE 

pushed  her.  His  easy  assumption  of  the  irremediable 
in  their  relationship  had  a  chill  in  it  all  the  more  irri- 
tating by  reason  of  the  false  warmth  that  it  disported. 
He  might  have  seen,  had  he  been  gifted  with  the  vision, 
the  little  danger  signals  beginning  to  glitter  in  her  clear 
eye  and  tinge  the  white  hauteur  of  her  face.  But  he 
did  not  see.  His  vital  self-importance  was  stone  blind 
and  galloped  apace  with  added  gustiness. 

"The  man  is  too  amusing,"  he  said,  "to  be  offensive. 
Really,  now  I  think  of  it,  I  should  have  been  enter- 
tained instead  of  being  annoyed,  and  I  regret,  for  your 
sake,  that  I  was  compelled  to  teach  him  a  passing  lesson 
in  what  I  may  call  a  gentleman's  amour  pro  pre." 

"You  are  making  a  mistake,  Mr.  Journingham,"  said 
Kate,  not  quite  clear  in  her  mind  whether  the  mistake 
related  to  the  Judge  or  to  herself. 

"Not  at  all,  not  at  all,"  replied  Mr.  Journingham, 
catching  hold  of  her  arm  familiarly  and  giving  a  con- 
fidential air  to  his  amusement.  "Why,  the  man  asked 
me  to  let  him  see  the  letter  you  wrote  me.  Upon  my 
honour,  he  did  !    You  may  not  believe  it,  but  it's  a  fact." 

"And  why  did  you  not  show  it  to  him  ?  I  should  have 
done  so  before  I  sent  it,"  said  Kate.  "He  could  have 
told  me  if  there  was  anything  in  it  I  should  be  ashamed 
of." 

"Charming!"  exclaimed  Mr.  Journingham,  beginning 
to  notice  the  awakening  spirit  in  her  face  and  mien, 
without  understanding  it.  "Charming,  my  dear;  but 
believe  me,  you  do  not  understand  these  men  of  the 
world  as  I  do,  and  I  regret  to  say  that  I  was  compelled  to 
treat  him  with  some  severity;  and  I  feel  sure  that  he 
will  not  again  undertake  in  my  presence  to  interfere  in 
the  arrangements  that  you  have  already  made.  In 
such  matters,  my  dear,  it  will  be  safe  to  leave  the  treat- 


A  THUNDERSTORM  243 

ment  in  the  hands  of  your  husband.  I  trust  that  I  may 
use  that  word  provisionally,  may  I  not?" 

Kate  stood  close  under  the  Virginia  creeper  near  one 
of  the  fluted  columns  and  was  tenderly  canopied  in  her 
almost  statuesque  whiteness  of  face  and  dress.  She 
looked  at  him  so  straightforwardly  and  inflexibly  that 
he  left  her  side  with  a  half  laugh  and  began  walking 
up  and  down. 

"There,  there,"  he  said,  "let  us  cut  the  subject.  It 
is  disagreeable  to  both  of  us." 

"As  you  have  deprived  me  of  the  benefit  of  counsel," 
replied  Kate,  with  something  of  the  whiteness  of  her 
aspect  getting  into  her  voice,  "I  shall  have  to  be  my 
own  lawyer.  Perhaps  it  would  have  been  better  had 
you  left  the  matter  in  his  hands." 

"Tut,  tut,  my  dear,"  said  Mr.  Joumingham,  still 
walking  and  evidently  trying  to  mask  a  slight  irritation 
by  his  ready  fund  of  gusto.  "Tut,  tut,  my  dear;  I  have 
sometimes  felt  that  my  age  has  been  a  disadvantage  in 
my  relations  with  you,  but  believe  me,  in  such  a  matter 
as  this  it  is  a  great  advantage.  I  have  flattered  myself 
that  when  a  woman  places  her  future  happiness  in  a 
man's  hands " 

"Pardon  me,"  said  Kate;  "she  never  does  if  she  is  a 
true  woman  until  she  is  satisfied  that  the  hands  are 
strong  and  disinterested  enough  to  bear  the  burden." 

Even  as  she  said  it  she  recognized  the  recurrence  of 
that  word  "disinterested,"  and  wondered  at  it. 

"True  enough,  my  dear,"  replied  Mr.  Joumingham; 
"and  so  much  more  am  I  responsible  when  you  have 
confided  to  me  the  burden  after  long  deliberation." 

There  was  something  maddening  in  the  man's  obttise- 
ness.  Kate  bit  her  lip  with  hopeless  irritation  and  then 
flared  up. 


244  THE  CONQUERING  OF  KATE 

"You  are  giving  me  too  much  credit,"  she  said.  "I 
never  was  deliberate,  and  I  never  was  less  so  than  when 
I  wrote  you  that  letter.  I  warn  you  that  I  have  not 
outgrown  the  impulsive  spirit  that  made  me  write  it — 
and  am  quite  capable  of  repudiating  it." 

"Good  Heavens,  Kate !  "  exclaimed  Mr.  Joumingham, 
coming  to  a  full  halt  and  exhibiting  for  the  first  time 
something  like  a  collapse  of  self-satisfaction.  "I  must 
have  offended  you  in  some  way.  Good  God,  my  girl ! 
I  ask  your  pardon.     Let  us  drop  the  subject." 

Kate  now  felt  that  she  was  being  driven  to  the 
point  of  open  rupture  with  this  man.  The  feeling  was 
accompanied  by  something  of  maiden  desperation, 
and  she  knew  that  it  only  needed  a  little  courage  on 
her  part  to  carry  this  conversation  beyond  any  hope 
of  readjustment.  She  was  nervous  but  resentful  as 
she  said: 

"I  prefer  to  continue  the  subject,  if  you  please.  I 
should  at  least  like  to  prove  to  you  that,  unlike  my 
lawyer,  I  cannot  be  frightened  from  it." 

"Frightened!"  he  repeated,  with  something  like 
genuine  perplexity  fretting  his  astonishment,  "I  think 
there  is  some  misunderstanding, " 

"Perhaps,"  she  said,  with  biting  calmness,  "an 
understanding  would  be  more  fatal.  I  am  trying  to 
arrive  at  one. " 

"You  are  angry  with  me. " 

"  Your  acumen  is  slow  but  sure. " 

"What  have  I  done.?  Heavens,  my  girl,  are  you 
offended  because  I  traversed  half  the  earth  at  your  beck 
and  threw  myself  at  your  feet?  Come,  come,  I  swear 
to  you  that  I  do  not  know  what  I  have  done, " 

"  I  beg  that  you  will  not  swear  to  your  own  dullness, " 
she  said.     "If  you  will  consider  me  as   deprived  of 


A  THUNDERSTORM  245 

counsel  and  compelled  to  assume  my  own  defense,  I  will 
tell  you. " 

"  Heaven  forbid  that  I  should  put  you  on  the  defensive. 
Let  me  get  you  a  chair.  There  is  really  no  occasion  for 
this. " 

"Was  there  anything  in  my  letter  that  indicated  that 
I  had  conceived  a  sudden  attachment  for  you,  Mr. 
Joumingham?" 

"Miss  Btissey,  I  would  not  dishonour  you  by  the  sus- 
picion that  you  could  consent  to  marry  a  man  from  any 
baser  motive  than  one  of  attachment.  I  have  not 
examined  into  your  motives.  I  flatter  myself  I  am 
above  it.  It  is  enough  for  me  that  you  consented,  and 
I  obeyed  your  summons.  Now  let  us  have  done  with 
this,  I  beg  of  you. " 

"You  never  asked  me  why  I  consented  to  marry  you, 
and  I  am  to  believe  that  you  never  asked  yourself. " 

"I  repeat  that  it  is  enough  that  you  consented,  and  I 
will  stake  my  life  that  you  will  keep  your  word. " 

If  this  bravado  of  gallantry  was  meant  to  exhibit  his 
faith  in  the  woman,  it  miscarried,  for  it  seemed  to  Kate 
to  exhibit  only  his  faith  in  himself. 

"I  have  been  taught  that  a  Bussey  always  keeps  her 
word,"  she  said;  "but  they  failed  to  teach  me  that  a 
man  may  make  it  impossible. " 

This  overshot  the  mark  a  little.  A  slightly  puzzled 
look  came  into  his  eyes.  He  shrugged  his  shoulders 
as  if  shaking  off  the  idea. 

"  Miss  Bussey, "  he  said,  "  I  am  at  a  loss  to  understand 
you,  and  you  must  forgive  me  if  T  do  not  take  your 
present  mood  seriously.  I  am  a  practical  man  and  have 
been  taught  to  accept  a  lady's  word  as  final,  and  not  to 
question  it." 

"You  will  have  no  room  to  question  it  when  the  final 


346  THE  CONQUERING  OF  KATE 

word  is  spoken, "  she  said  with  a  calm  recklessness  that 
she  thought  of  afterward  with  amazement. 

He  stared  at  her  with  an  honest  perplexity.  She 
seemed  at  the  moment  to  be  receding  from  him  and  to 
grow  more  beautifully  regnant  as  some  kind  of  incom- 
prehensible maze  came  between  them.  His  animal 
impulse  was  to  catch  hold  of  her,  as  if  to  restore  by  a 
clutch  the  former  conditions,  and  he  made  a  move  toward 
her,  but  she  held  Up  her  hand  as  a  warning  spirit  might 
have  done;  his  ring  glittered  on  it  with  an  earthly  sig- 
nificance as  she  did  so,  and  he  drew  himself  up. 

"Mr.  Journingham, "  she  said,  "I  regret  very  much 
your  inability  to  understand  me  because  it  is  so  humili- 
ating to  be  compelled  to  instruct  you. " 

Never  before  had  she  allowed  her  contempt  for  him 
to  trickle  into  her  good  manners  so  icily.  He  felt  it 
without  understanding  it,  and  that  inability  to  under- 
stand was  the  goad  that  stung  her  on. 

"The  letter  I  wrote  you,"  she  said;  "I  am  afraid  you 
have  mistaken  its  meaning. " 

"Good  God  !"  he  ejaculated.    "  What  are  you  saying ?" 

"  Let  me  try  and  explain  myself.  I  do  not  mean  that 
the  consent  it  contained  could  be  misunderstood  or  that 
I  will  not  stand  to  it.  But  it  did  not  imply  that  in 
relinquishing  myself  I  was  relinquishing  my  birthright, 
my  friends,  my  memories  and  my  inheritance." 

"Heaven  forbid!"  he  exclaimed  with  considerable 
relief,  and  taking  a  step  toward  her.  "I  have  come  to 
place  your  birthright  in  your  possession.  In  accepting 
your  hand  it  was  to  lead  you  into  the  royal  domain 
where  you  belong — where  the  world  will  be  at  your  feet. " 

She  held  up  her  hand  again.  "I  am  afraid, "  she  said, 
"that  our  worlds  are  separated  by  an  impassable  gulf 
that  nothing  I  can  ever  do  will  bridge. " 


A  THUNDERSTORM  247 

"By  Heavens!  you  utterly  mistake  me,  my  dear.  I 
swear  to  you  that  you  are  doing  me  a  great  injustice. 
You  have  but  to  express  a  wish  and  it  shall  be  gratified. 
There  never  hved  a  lover  so  anxious  to  place  the  object 
of  his  idolatry  in  the  sphere  where  she  belongs. " 

"My  experience  of  lovers  is  pitiably  small,"  said 
Kate,  "but  it  never  occurred  to  me  that  a  lover's  first 
act  would  be  to  deprive  me  of  my  only  counselor  and 
take  advantage  of  a  written  promise  to  make  me  feel 
my  helplessness,  even  to  the  point  of  suspecting  that  my 
promise  was  something  more  than  an  error  and  may 
have  been  a  misfortune." 

The  only  two  animating  impulses  of  action  in  Mr. 
Joumingham,  as  he  listened  to  this  arraignment,  were 
almost  antagonistic  to  each  other,  and  as  they  could  not 
impel  him  conjointly,  they  operated  successively.  One 
was  a  passion  made  almost  servile  by  the  presence  of  its 
object,  enhanced  and  dignified  by  a  new  authority;  the 
other  was  a  constitutional  habit  of  masterful  egotism 
and  self-willed  importance.  To  exhibit  them  both  as 
he  did,  like  a  human  automaton,  and  never  suspect  that 
the  psychic  creature  in  front  of  him  would  take  their 
measure  with  a  shrinking  accuracy,  only  added  fuel  to 
the  fires  which  were  already  gleaming  in  Kate's 
eyes.  With  the  first  impiilse  he  was  majestically 
obeisant. 

"Idle  fears,  my  dear;  dismiss  them,  I  beg  of  you. 
You  have  strangely  misconceived  the  depth  of  my  affec- 
tion. When  you  know  me  better  you  will  laugh  at  these 
fears,  for  I  have  no  other  object  in  life  than  yotir  happi- 
ness. Yes,  by  Jove !  those  fellows  in  London  would 
laugh  if  they  could  see  me  actually  kneeHng  at  your  feet. 
But  they'd  forgive  me  if  they  saw  you  as  you  look  now. 
By  Heavens !  Kate,  you  look  like  a  queen  to-day,  and 


248  THE  CONQUERING  OF  KATE 

your  engagement  ring  seems  to  borrow  a  new  fire  from 
your  eyes." 

"I  wish,  Mr.  Journingham,  that  you  would  try  and  be 
serious  with  me  for  a  moment.  You  make  me  suspect 
that  you  do  not  think  me  worth  it." 

"Now,  by  all  the  gods!  you  are  worth  an  empire, 
and  I  feel  ashamed  of  myself  for  not  being  an 
emperor." 

"Then, "  she  said  softly,  but  as  if  her  teeth  were  closed, 
"I  can  sympathize  in  your  shame,  especially  as  you  have 
undertaken  to  rule  an  empire. " 

This  acrid  little  dart  having  penetrated  the  only 
vulnerable  part  of  his  selfhood — his  masculine  vanity — 
his  other  impulse  came  to  his  rescue,  and  he  began  to 
lord  it  a  little  in  self-defense.  He  threw  out  his  shirt- 
front  and  strode  about. 

"You  will  pardon  me.  Miss  Bussey, "  he  said,  "if  I 
tell  you  that  the  empire  which  has  fallen  to  my  lot 
entails  such  vast  responsibilities  that  you  cannot  under- 
stand that  I  should  be  sacrificing  my  self-respect  as  a 
man  of  the  world  were  I  to  allow  my  infatuation  for  you 
to  blind  me  to  my  duties.  It  is  customary  in  England, 
when  a  lady  accepts  a  husband,  to  accept  also  his  more 
practical  views  of  men  and  affairs.  I  flatter  myself. 
Miss  Bussey,  that  as  your  husband  I  shall  not  prove 
inadequate  as  a  man  who  knows  the  world  and  under- 
stands his  rights." 

Kate  began  to  flutter  a  little  as  a  bird  might  that  feels 
the  wires  of  its  cage  enclosing  it  for  the  first  time.  The 
man's  rights  as  a  husband  threatened  to  extinguish  all 
other  rights,  and  in  the  first  collision  of  rights  mere 
sensibility  shrank  a  little  at  mere  emphasis,  which, 
taking  a  full  breath,  went  on: 

"  My  first  duty  is  to  protect  you  from  your  enemies. " 


A  THUNDERSTORM  349 

"My  enemies?"  she  repeated,  inquiringly. 

"Yes,  I  shall  see  that  the  young  scapegrace  who  has 
persecuted  you  with  his  attentions  is  removed  from  our 
path.  I  cannot  very  well  consult  with  his  father  on 
that  matter." 

" Did  you  threaten  his  father  with  his  removal?" 

"I  am  not  in  the  habit  of  threatening,"  repUed  Mr. 
Joumingham,  with  a  little  additional  inflation.  "I 
informed  him  of  my  intentions,  and  I  may  as  well  tell 
you  that  I  shall  also  seriously  object  to  your  retention 
on  the  place  of  that  other  young  man,  who,  I  am 
informed,  is  similarly  disposed  to  overstep  his  duties  as 
an  employee." 

"Then,"  said  Kate,  with  her  head  up  and  her  eyes 
flashing  at  last  with  perilous  indignation,  "  it  is  my  duty 
to  inform  you  that  if  any  one  leaves  this  place  it  will  be 
because  I  desire  it  and  not  you,  for,  despite  the  fellows 
in  London,  I  am  still  mistress  of  it. " 

"Ah,  I  did  not  think  it  had  gone  as  far  as  that.  Miss 
Bussey,  it  is  my  desire  to  drop  the  subject  here.  There 
is  Pierson  with  the  horses.  When  you  have  taken  a 
canter  in  this  fresh  air,  I  feel  assured  that  your  spirits 
will  have  recovered  their  natural  tone.     Permit  me. " 

Pierson  came  up  to  the  balustrade  and  held  out  his 
hand.     Kate  exclaimed: 

"  O,  yes — the  letter,  I  am  going  up  to  get  my  riding 
habit,  and  I  will  fetch  it. " 

She  flew  up  the  stairs  with  unwonted  celerity,  and 
going  to  her  little  desk,  her  eyes  fell  again  upon  John 
Burt's  letter  and  picture  and  what  seemed  to  her  now 
to  be  her  cruel  answer.  A  new  impulse  seized  her.  It 
was  heightened  by  the  tones  of  Mr.  Joumingham's 
authoritative  voice  that  came  up  to  her.  She  strode 
about  for  a  moment  with  her  hands  pressed  upon  her 


250  THE  CONQUERING  OF  KATE 

temples.  Then  dropping  down  at  her  'desk,  she  seized 
a  pen  and  with  the  same  impulse  dashed  off  the  following 
lines : 

''Dear  Old  Drudge:  I  have  followed  your  instruc- 
tions. The  fires  are  burning  on  the  hay  field  and  it 
looks  from  my  window  like  a  vast  altar  lit  by  your  torch. 
I  am  trying  to  be  mistress  of  the  Grange,  and  I  com- 
mand you  to  come  immediately  to  my  assistance  and 
finish  your  work. " 

Having  made  this  revelation  of  herself,  she  looked  at 
it  with  shrinking  shame  and  tried  again  to  allay  her 
conflicting  emotions  by  striding  about,  but  succeeded 
only  in  knocking  down  several  articles  of  ornament. 
Then,  as  if  discouraged  at  her  own  state  of  mind  and 
chiefly  anxious  to  grasp  at  any  relief,  she  exclaimed: 

"Heavens!  I  believe  I  shall  go  insane.  The  ride  will 
do  me  good.  Anything — out  of  this  maze. "  And  down 
she  went  to  the  veranda,  and  a  few  minutes  later  they 
cantered  away. 


CHAPTER  XVI 

"Y'r  Couldn't  be  Squar'  " 

Whatever  it  was  the  Judge  said  to  his  son  when  he 
returned  from  the  interview  with  Mr.  Joumingham  at 
the  Grange,  it  had  an  entirely  unlooked-for  effect  upon 
that  young  man's  mind.  Instead  of  hastening  his 
departure  as  was  intended,  it  filled  him  with  an  unreason- 
able suspicion  that  his  father,  Mr.  Joumingham  and  the 
Busseys  were  acting  in  concert  to  get  him  out  of  the  way, 
and  having  consulted  his  mother,  it  was  not  difficult 
to  make  her  agree  with  him.  The  more  he  thought  it 
over,  the  more  his  own  importance  seemed  to  loom  up. 
They  were  all  leagued  against  him, and  his  natural  rights, 
and  there  must  be  something  dangerous  in  a  man  who 
necessitated  such  a  combination.  This  Englishman  was 
going  to  use  the  law  against  him  and  had  the  effrontery 
to  tell  the  Judge  so,  and  the  boy's  father,  instead  of 
resenting  it,  had  weakly  fallen  into  the  trap  and  tried  to 
pack  his  boy  off  where  he  would  not  be  in  the  way." 
Once  this  view  of  the  matter  presented  itself,  everything 
corroborated  it,  and  the  result  was  a  deep  sullen  resent- 
ment. His  mother  advised  him  to  "light  out  sudden." 
He  could  go  down  to  the  Mussel  Shoals  in  Tennessee 
where  her  folks  were  and  wait  till  it  blew  over,  and  tell- 
ing her  that  he  would  send  a  nigger  for  his  duds,  he  set 
out  without  saying  good-by  to  his  father,  and  rode 
away  westward  with  no  other  definite  purpose  than  to 
dodge  the  immediate  and  baffle  his  rival. 


253  THE  CONQUERING  OF  KATE 

It  so  happened  that  he  had  not  gone  a  mile  westward 
when  he  met  the  Englishman  and  Miss  Kate  Bussey  on 
the  road,  out  for  a  gallop,  and  now  returning.  It  was 
at  a  place  where  the  road,  widening  through  a  dense 
wood  that  almost  shut  it  in  from  the  light,  took  a  sudden 
turn,  and  he  came  upon  them  so  unexpectedly  that  there 
was  time  but  for  one  distinct  consciousness.  He  was 
himself  going  away  hunted,  and  the  Englishman  was 
triumphantly  riding  back  with  the  mistress  of  the 
Grange.  "Without  knowing  exactly  what  he  did,  and 
impelled  only  by  one  of  those  sudden  impulses  that  are 
more  animal  than  sentient,  he  turned  his  horse  squarely 
across  Mr.  Journingham's  path  and  glared  at  him.  The 
action  was  so  sudden  and  unexpected  that  the  English- 
man's first  impression  was  that  he  had  been  stopped  by 
one  of  the  outlaws  of  the  forest ;  but  as  Miss  Bussey  at 
the  same  moment  recognized  the  young  man  and  uttered 
a  cry  of  alarm  coupled  with  his  name,  Mr.  Journingham 
lifted  a  heavy  riding-whip  and  struck  him  squarely  in 
the  face  with  it,  shouting  at  the  same  time,  "  Get  out  of 
my  way,  you  young  miscreant. "  The  blow  was  a 
sharp  and  powerful  one,  and  as  it  was  delivered  his  horse 
shied  a  little  and  backed  away.  Under  the  smart, 
Folingsby  slipped  like  an  Indian  from  his  seat,  and 
covering  the  greater  part  of  his  body  behind  his  horse, 
put  his  hand  on  his  hip  pocket.  In  another  moment  the 
Englishman,  who  did  not  understand  the  significance 
of  the  action,  would  have  received  a  bullet  in  his  body; 
but  before  the  weapon  could  be  released  there  broke 
forth  a  shrill  sound — something  between  an  Indian  yell 
and  a  woman's  cry  of  terror — and  a  white  form  came 
suddenly  out  of  the  brush  by  the  roadside,  waving  its 
arms.  Folingsby's  horse  reared,  and,  if  his  arm  had  not 
caught  the  bridle,  would  have  plunged  down  the  road. 


"Y'R  COULDN'T  BE  SQUAR'  "  253 

For  a  moment  the  young  man  was  a  little  less  discon- 
certed than  the  animals.  He  did  not  at  first  recognize 
the  bogy  in  white,  and  the  moment  of  hesitation  saved 
the  incident  from  becoming  a  tragedy.  Kate's  horse 
gave  a  spring  and  Mr.  Joumingham's  plunged  after  her, 
so  that  by  the  time  the  figure  in  white  had  reached  the 
middle  of  the  road  the  two  of  them  were  galloping  away 
from  the  scene  at  a  somewhat  disordered  gait. 

Folingsby,  tugging  at  his  horse  and  trying  to  pacify 
it,  looked  at  the  girl  with  astonishment  and  slow  recog- 
nition. She  wore  a  white  dress,  trim  boots,  a  little 
straw  hat  with  a  ribbon  on  it,  and  some  kind  of  coarse 
but  effective  lace  collar  on  her  back  and  shoulders. 
Certainly  in  this  unusual  garb  she  looked  surprisingly 
handsome.  Her  black  hair  was  gathered  up  on  her 
head  and  bulged  out  in  a  wavy  frame  for  her  brown  face. 
She  had  transformed  herself  somehow  from  a  voluptuous 
savage  to  a  buxom  mountain  belle. 

"You  saved  his  life,  d n  him — didn't  you  ?  What'd 

you  do  it  for?" 

"Gimme  the  gun  and  I'll  tell  y'r,"  she  answered, 
evidently  enjoying  his  surprise  at  her  appearance. 

"Oh,  no;  not  this  time,  Suke.     I'm  traveling." 

"All  right,  Buckey,"  she  said;  "if  you're  travelin' 
you'll  want  it.     So  am  I — good  luck  to  you." 

And  she  swung  round  with  a  splendid  animal  grace 
and  started  off  down  the  road.     He  called  to  her: 

"  Hold  on,  Suke.     Where  be  you  goin'  ? " 

"Goin'  to  see  my  man,"  she  replied.  "I  got  a  new 
one.     You're  too  risky." 

He  jumped  on  his  horse  and  came  up  to  her. 

"Who  dressed  you  up  in  store  clothes?"  he  asked. 
"Say,  you're  awful  dead  ripe  in  that  frock." 

"He  did,"  she  replied,  tossing  her  head. 


254  THE  CONQUERING  OF  KATE 

"Then  I'll  keep  the  gun  for  him." 

"You'll  hev  to  get  two  guns.  There's  lots  of  'em.  I 
ain't  axing  no  favours  now." 

"Are  you  clean  shut  o'  me?"  he  asked  somewhat 
softly. 

"I  guess  I  kin  look  for  a  squar  man,  like  any  other 
girl,  can't  I?     Lem  me  be — I'm  too  squar'  for  you." 

He  leaned  over  to  her  as  she  walked  along  the  grass- 
covered  path  and  said  with  something  like  a  soft 
appeal : 

"You  ain't  goin'  to  shake  me  dead,  Suke,  like  this, 
are  y'r?" 

She  knew  very  well  that  her  clumsy  coquetry  had 
ignited  his  jealousy.  Whatever  womanly  tact  was 
instinctive  in  her  was  quite  equal  to  his  impulses,  and 
so  the  old  game  that  is  played  in  salons  and  theatres 
disported  itself  there  by  the  roadside  in  ribbons  and 
store  clothes,  and  the  senses  of  the  masculine  animal 
acknowledged  without  knowing  it  the  decorative 
superiority  of  a  woman. 

"What  'd  ye  want  to  shoot  at  the  Englishman  fer?" 
she  asked,  suddenly  coming  to  a  halt. 

"He's  bunting  me.     I've  got  to  light  out.     D n 

him !  He  and  my  old  man  stand  in  agin  me.  I  ain't 
got  a  friend  left,  now  you're  sackin'  me." 

"What's  he  huntin'  y'r  fur?" 

"Thinks  I  want  to  marry  the  Bussey  woman.  Lord, 
Suke,  she  ain't  a  patch  to  you  when  you're  lady  dressed 
— if  a  man  could  marry  what  he  likes." 

"She  marry  him?     Who  said  it?" 

"She  said  it  herself  in  a  letter." 

"  How'd  y'r  know  it  ? "  she  asked  suddenly. 

"Oh,  she  told  me  herself,"  he  replied  evasively. 

"That's  a  lie."  said  Suke.     "She  ain't  sweet  on  him." 


"Y'R  COULDN'T  BE  SQUAR'  "  255 

"Ain't  she?     How  do  you  know." 

"It's  t'other  one." 

"Who's  t'other?" 

"Gimme  the  gun  and  I'll  tell  you.  You're  too 
anxious  with  it." 

He  slipped  down  from  his  horse  and  stood  beside  her. 

"I  got  to  have  it,  Suke,"  he  said.  "You  don't  care 
an  awful  deal  for  me,  I  know,  but  you  wouldn't  see  me 
struck  like  that  and  nothin'  in  my  pocket," 

There  was  a  red  welt  on  his  cheek  and  a  tiny  stain  of 
blood.  She  pulled  the  handkerchief  from  his  breast 
pocket  and  wiped  his  face  with  it. 

"I  ain't  that  unhuman  to  a  dog,"  she  said. 

"Well,  I'm  treated  worse  nor  a  dog,  and  it's  all  o' 
standin'  by  you.  I  s'pose  they'll  hunt  me  for  this — 
and  I  could  'a'  dropped  him  if  I  had  not  heard  your 
voice." 

This  is  another  old  game  played  ever  since  male  and 
female  created  He  them.  Man  offsets  his  weakness  of 
sense  by  woman's  weakness  of  pity. 

"They'll  be  on  y'r  heels  with  horses,"  she  said. 
"Go  on  up  to  the  Shelf.  Gimme  the  gun  and  don't 
stand." 

"Are  you  comin'  with  me?" 

"You  go  ahead.  There's  nobody  huntin'  me.  Go 
inter  the  brush,"  she  said,  looking  down  the  road  with 
some  apprehension. 

"Come  on  up  the  hill,"  he  replied;  "we  can  see  the 
road  for  a  mile." 

And  then  they  walked  on  together,  he  holding  the 
horse's  bridle.  The  moment  they  were  started  he 
asked: 

"Who's  t'other  one?" 

"Him  what  went  off.     What  do  y'r  care?" 


2s6  THE  CONQUERING  OF  KA.TE 

"The  overseer?  Why,  she's  goin'  to  marry  the 
Englishman." 

"Is  she?  Well,  she  ain't  plum  honey  on  him — it's 
t'other  one." 

Folingsby  looked  at  her  with  a  sudden  interest. 

"Where'd  you  get  that  foolishness?"  he  asked. 
"T'other  one  sneaked — she  fired  him." 

Suke  looked  knowing,  gave  her  head  a  toss,  and  they 
proceeded  silently  a  moment,  as  if  doubt  on  one  side  and 
tacit  assurance  on  the  other  had  some  difficulty  in 
adjusting  themselves.     Presently  he  said: 

"You  don't  know  anything  about  it,  Suke." 

"I  calkilate  I  know  what  I  see'd,"  she  said  with  the 
same  air  of  possessing  some  kind  of  special  information. 

"What'd  you  see?" 

"I  see'd  her  with  t'other — she  follered  him;  and  I 
see'd  her  with  this  one,  and  he  follered  her.  I  come  all 
the  way  down  in  the  brush  to  watch  'em.  She  shies 
at  this  one." 

"T'other  one  was  a  man,  leastways,"  said  Folingsby 
thoughtfully.  "I  wouldn't  blame  her.  Are  you  dead 
sure?" 

"Dead  sure  in  meself,"  she  replied.  "But  I  ain't 
makin'  anybody  else  sure.  He's  writin'  letters  to 
her." 

"How  d'ye  know  it?"  he  asked  with  what  seemed  to 
Suke  considerable  more  interest  than  the  subject  seemed 
to  warrant. 

"'Taint  nothin'  to  you,  is  it?" 

"If  this  one  had  struck  you  in  the  face  with  a  whip, 
you'd  like  to  see  t'other  one  throw  him  down,  wouldn't 
y'r — it's  just  natur',  I  calkilate." 

"You  ain't  no  more  human  nor  me,  I  guess.  I 
reckoned  that  whip  struck  me  in  the  face — that's  why 


"Y'R  COULDN'T  BE  SQUAR'  "  257 

I  yelled  so.    She  didn't  yell  when  you  had  your  hand 
on  your  gun." 

Folingsby  regarded  her  with  some  surprise.  "Suke," 
he  said,  "you  are  peert,  ain't  y'r?  What  a  goldamed 
fool  I've  been." 

"Well,  I  ain't  such  an  ornery  critter  when  I'm 
fixed  up." 

"I  never  said  different.  You  can  tassel  out  with  the 
best  in  the  land.     Where  was  you  goin'  so  slick?" 

"To  see  my  man." 

"And  who's  the  buck.  Honey.'"' 
•    "Your  old  man." 

"What  for?" 

"  To  tell  him  if  we  was  to  go  shut. " 

"How  much  did  he  offer  you?" 

"Wouldn't  y'r  like  to  know?" 

"You'll  take  it,  I  guess." 

"Well,  you're  off,  ain't  y'r?" 

He  considered  a  moment.  "If  you  took  it,  you 
might  go  with  me.  We  could  sneak  down  to  the  Mussel 
Shoals  and  have  lots  o'  sport." 

She  turned  on  him,  and  not  having  the  adequate 
answer  in  words,  she  struck  him  a  stout  blow  on  the 
breast  with  her  fist.  Her  emotions  often  used  the 
vocabulary  of  action. 

He  tried  to  laugh  indifferently. 

"Your  store  clothes  make  you  proud,"  he  said. 

"You're  a  mean  cuss,  Fol,"  she  exclaimed,  "and  I'm 
a  squar'  girl.  Goddlemighty,  I  ought  to  spit  in  your  face, 
but  I  can't  do  it.  Go  on  up  the  road  and  lemme 
be." 

He  made  as  if  about  to  get  upon  his  horse.  "Honest 
Injun,  that  furriner  '11  swear  out  a  warrant  for  me  and 
there'll  be  a  deputy  comin'  up.     I'll  go  down  and  meet 


258  THE  CONQUERING  OF  KATE 

him.  There  ain't  no  pity  in  your  buzzum,  Suke — no 
more'n  a  rock." 

"Well,  I  did  hev  some." 

"What'd  you  do  with  it?" 

"Left  it  with  y'r  old  man,  I  reckon." 

"Tell  me  what  you  said  to  him." 

"I  'lowed  if  you  wanted  to  be  shut  o'  me  I  c'd  stan* 
it  without  dickerin'.  There  was  them  as  was  better *n 
you.     He  had  a  still  cry,  an'  it  upset  me." 

"Can't  see  what  he  wanted  to  snivel  for.  It  was 
business." 

"No,  you  ain't  good  at  seein'.  Reckon  it  twisted 
him  some  to  see  a  moonshiner's  gal  was  squarer  nor  his 
own  flesh  and  blood." 

"Y'r  talk  as  if  you'd  got  religion,  Suke.  I  ain't  such 
a  pizen  sinner,  nuther.  What's  the  old  man's  '11  come 
to  me  sometime.  What  y'r  want  to  stand  me  off  like 
this  fer?" 

The  sequence  of  thought  in  this  speech  was  apparently 
to  Suke's  mind  without  a  flaw. 

"I  never  'lowed  yer  was  such  a  pizen  sinner  to  rob 
y'r  old  man  to  buy  me  shut,  an'  ef  yer  was,  a  gal  don't 
hev  .to  hev  religion  to  git  out  the  way  of  a  rattler,  does 
she?" 

"Was  you  thinkin'  o'  getting  out  my  way,  Suke?" 

"Well,  I  ain't  goin'  to  the  Mussel  Shoals  to  fool  the 
sheriff's  men  as  I  know  on." 

"I  call  it  doggoned  mean,  coz  I  asked  you  to  go." 

In  this  conversation  the  girl  by  some  instinctive 
finesse  succeeded  in  awakening  in  him  a  new  sense  of  her 
advantages,  if  not  of  her  superiorities.  Her  air  of  indif- 
ference and  independence  was  nothing  more,  perhaps, 
than  the  small  means  coquetry  has  at  hand  in  such  a 
nature.     But  it  accomplished  its  purpose.     Her  com- 


"Y'R  COULDN'T  BE  SQUAR'  "  259 

panion  began  to  suspect  that  he  had  not  half  appre- 
ciated Suke's  charms,  and  it  nettled  him  to  think  he 
might  have  lost  his  hold  upon  her. 

"It  was  pesky  mean  to  allow  a  gal  had  to  run  away 
because  you  had." 

"Oh,  well,  if  you  feel  that  way  about  it,"  said 
Folingsby,  "enough  said.  There's  a  good  crop  o'  girls 
at  the  Shoals,"  and  he  turned  to  mount  his  horse. 

"Yer'll  be  tuk  before  you're  through  the  Gap,"  she 
said.  "Deputy  Rufe  Stark'll  come  straight  to  the 
Shelf.  He  ain't  out  of  Pennsylvany,  says  I.  Fetch 
him  back — he  was  pizen  bad  to  some  folios,"  and  she 
swung  round  coquettishly,  as  if  it  were  a  matter  of 
indifference  to  her  whether  he  hanged  or  went  to  jail 
for  life.  "You'd  better  skedaddle  while  the  coast's 
clar,"  she  said. 

"If  I'm  to  be  took,"  he  growled,  "what's  the  use  of 
wasting  breath.  Mebbe  I'll  wait  here.  What's  the 
odds,  anyway,  when  a  man's  shook?" 

This  petty  bravado  received  another  blow.  He  had 
sprung  upon  his  horse  and  turned  him  round  in  the 
road,  so  the  girl,  not  being  able  to  reach  him  with  her 
hand,  used  her  tongue. 

"Mebbe  it  would  settle  y'r  old  man  to  hev  yer  tuk 
— y'r  pizen  capebl'  of  it." 

That  struck  rather  deeply.  He  pulled  up  his  horse 
and  used  another  tone. 

"You're  pizen  mean  yourself,  Suke,  to  talk  that  way 
to  me.  If  I'd  listened  to  my  old  man  instead  o'  you 
it'd  been  different  I  guess  the  worst  thing  about  me 
was  hangin'  on  to  you  fer  two  years.  But  I  never 
thought  you'd  put  your  foot  on  me  when  I  got  in  a  hole, 
I  can  swar  that." 

"Yer  jist  fooled  with  me  fer  two  years.     'Twas  a  big 


26o  THE  CONQUERING  OF  KATE 

lie  to  go  that  fur,  an'  yer  calculatin'  to  marry  the  mistress 
o'  the  Catalpas.  Yer  guessed  I  was  a  good  enough  chip- 
munk for  rainy  days.  Yer  fooled  y'rself,  Fol  Heck- 
shent.  I  ain't  sech  a  prairie  chick  when  I'm  fixed  up; 
and  leastways,  I'm  a  woman,  anyhow,  and  there's  them 
that  takes  their  hat  off  on  that  account — and  they're 
yer  betters.  I  never  axed  yer  to  do  anything  but  be 
squar' — an'  yer  couldn't." 

There  was  the  faintest  possible  intimation  in  this, 
despite  her  art,  that  he  might  be  square  now  that  she 
made  it  such  an  ultimatum,  and  these  children  of  nature 
have  a  marvelous  apprehension  of  intimations. 

"And  so  help  me,  there  never  was  a  time,  Suke,  when 
I  wouldn't  'a'  been  squar',  as  I  could  if  you'd  stood 
to  me,"  he  said. 

"  If  you  mean  it,  gimme  the  gun  and  go  on  up  to  the 
Shelf." 


CHAPTER  XVII 
The    Unexpected 

It  was  thus,  smarting  under  a  blow  and  with  the  virus 
of  revenge  in  his  veins,  that  Folingsby  came  to  the 
Shelf  an  hour  or  two  later  accompanied  by  Suke,  who 
kept  at  some  distance  with  feelings  no  doubt  of  coquetry 
and  pique.  They  were  met  at  the  house  by  Lunt,  who 
had  a  gun  in  his  hand  and  was  going  after  'coons  or  any 
animals  that  would  furnish  something  in  the  way  of 
food  for  the  evening's  jollification. 

Some  kinds  of  news  travel  quickly  and  mysteriously 
in  that  region,  and  the  report  of  the  encounter  on  the 
road  had  preceded  them. 

"Y'r  cut  in  the  face,"  said  Lunt.  "Mebbe  it  was  a 
whip.     Wasn't  there  any  rocks  in  the  road?" 

"I  don't  look  fer  rocks  when  I've  got  my  gun.  Mebbe 
you  ought  to  know  that  and  keep  your  tongue  between 
your  teeth." 

"Denk  Murphy  'lows  the  Englishman  licked  yer  like  a 
nigger,"  replied  Lunt. 

This  kind  of  brutal  sarcasm  seemed  to  fire  the  red 
mark  on  Folingsby's  face,  and  he  writhed  under  it,  but 
the  girl,  with  a  sure  knowledge  of  the  vindictive  character 
of  these  men,  and  touched,  perhaps,  with  pity  for 
Folingsby,  jumped  again  into  the  crisis.  She  started 
out  toward  the  ledge  of  rocks,  shouting  to  Folingsby: 

"Come  on  with  me  if  y'r  a  squar'  man.  He's  a  mean- 
sperrited  liar.     Yer  don't  hev  to  stand  there  an'  be  tuk." 

A  moment  later  she  had  run  out  to  the  rocky  ledge, 
361 


262  THE  CONQUERING  OF  KATE 

followed  by  Folingsby,  but  before  Lunt  could  signal 
them  of  danger  from  the  window  Deputy  Rufe  Stark 
rode  in  at  the  front  gate  with  his  crooked  cane  hanging 
over  his  arm. 

The  old  woman,  who  sat  on  the  hearthstone  dipping, 
stood  up  and  looked  about  her  like  the  dam  of  some 
wild  herd.  She  evidently  knew  all  the  dangers  of  the 
situation.  She  picked  up  Lunt's  double-barreled  gun 
that  he  had  stood  in  the  comer  and,  going  to  the  door, 
said: 

"Hark  to  me — all  of  yees.  Ginerally  speakin',  yees 
hav  all  been  brought  up  to  use  y'r  guns,  but  I  hev  to 
tell  ye  thet  when  it  comes  to  usin'  a  gun  on  a  Deputy, 
Baldy  Turck's  widder  stands  in  with  the  Deputy.  Cos 
why?  Cos  the  Turcks  allers  got  the  worst  of  it  when 
they  fought  the  law,  and  him  as  draws  a  bead  on  the 
Deputy  gets  my  two  barrels  plum." 

Lunt  and  Folingsby,  who  were  sitting  now  on  the  edge 
of  the  Shelf,  heard  this  speech,  and  Lunt  said  to  his 
companion : 

"Say,  when  it  comes  to  the  Sheriff,  my  grudge  agin' 
ye  can  wait.  Yer  can  streak  it  down  the  slope  inter  the 
timber  and  brush,  and  cross  over  inter  the  rocks.  I'll 
stand  him  off  till  yer  git  clean  away," 

"Here's  some  money,"  said  Folingsby;  "go  and  fetch 
me  a  cup  of  the  old  woman's  whisky  and  get  y'r  gun. 
We'll  go  see  if  there's  any  'coons  yet.  There'll  be  a  crowd 
here  to-night  and  the  old  woman  ain't  got  any  meat." 

The  result  was  that  Lunt  brought  him  out  a  teacupful 
of  whisky  and  took  his  money,  and  a  moment  later  the 
officer  came  round  the  comer  of  the  house  and  laid  his 
hand  on  Folingsby's  shoulder,  giving  his  hat  a  kind  of 
deferential  jerk  as  if  in  recognition  of  the  Squire's  son. 

"It's  no  use,  Fol,"  he  said,  "ye  can't  fight  the  whole 


THE  UNEXPECTED  263 

county.  I'd  rather  you'd  skipped  out  and  saved  me 
from  this — but  now  I'm  going  to  take  ye,  and  I  leave  it 
to  you  if  the  easiest  way  ain't  the  best.  It'll  break  up 
your  old  man,  and  so  help  me,  I'd  rather  you'd  'a'  give 
me  the  slip  than  to  have  to  do  it." 

"Oh,  it's  all  right,"  said  Folingsby.  "I  ain't  got  no 
grudge  agin'  you,  and  I'll  make  it  as  easy  for  you  as 
I  kin." 

"Give  me  your  word  as  a  squar'  man  that  you'll  show 
up  at  the  Sheriff's  house  in  two  hours  and  I'll  hev  the 
Judge  there  to  pull  you  through  without  my  doin'  a 
thing." 

"Good  enough,  old  man,"  said  Folingsby.  "We've 
got  to  git  some  kind  o'  meat  and  then  I'll  report.  Is  my 
word  good  ?"  and  he  held  out  his  hand. 

"I'll  take  it  this  time  for  the  sake  of  your  father," 
said  the  Deputy. 

Very  soon  after  this  Lunt  and  Folingsby,  with  many 
warnings  from  Suke,  were  tracking  down  the  slope 
through  the  timber  with  no  other  definite  purpose  than 
was  supplied  by  the  necessity  of  finding  a  supply  of  meat 
for  the  evening's  merrymaking.  Lunt  had  filled  a  flask 
with  whisky  and  both  of  them  were  exhilarated  and 
voluble.  They  threw  themselves  in  the  grass  by  the 
river  and  Lunt  could  not  resist  the  temptation  to  jibe 
his  companion. 

"That's  a  pretty  bad  welt  yer  got  on  y'r  chops.  Looks 
as  if  it  might  'a'  bin  a  bull-whip.  Ye'U  hev  to  git  the 
gals  to  paint  it  if  y're  goin'  to  the  weddin'." 

"I  calculate  I  don't  go  to  no  weddin'  but  my  own. 
Gimme  your  gun,"  said  Folingsby,  emptying  the  con- 
tents of  the  flask  into  his  mouth. 

"If  there's  any  mischief  in  yer  I  guess  I  don't  want 
my  gun  mixed  up  in  it.     Ye  better  git  y'r  own.     So 


264  THE  CONQUERING  OF  KATE 

long.  I'll  see  yer  at  the  party.  I'd  like  to 
know  if  the  gal  at  the  Grange  will  allow  a  man  to 
court  her  who  she's  seen  licked  like  a  nigger  on  the 
highway." 

The  red  mark  on  Folingsby's  cheek  burned  fiery  as  he 
jumped  up. 

"Oh,  he  didn't  know  me  as  well  as  you  do  and  the  more 
fool  you  for  usin'  y'r  tongue  on  me."  And  with  that  he 
started  down  the  bank  of  the  stream  in  a  headlong  and 
wayward  manner  as  if  the  impulses  that  moved  him  were 
not  in  accord,  and  in  another  moment  he  was  lost  to 
Lunt's  view  in  the  brush  along  the  river.  Plunging 
through  the  meadow,  he  came  out  upon  the  Bussey 
grounds  and  went  pantingly  up  the  rise  toward  the  house, 
coming  out  against  the  southern  comer  of  the  porch, 
and  the  first  thing  that  struck  his  eye  was  Mr.  Jouming- 
ham's  handsome  gun  leaning  there  against  the  rail. 
It  was  a  weapon  that  would  have  caught  his  attention 
at  any  time,  but  just  now  it  seemed  like  a  providential 
interposition.  Kate,  who  stood  in  the  doorway  watch- 
ing his  approach,  saw  that  his  gaze  was  riveted  on  the 
weapon,  and  with  some  kind  of  apprehension  that  she 
did  not  understand,  she  walked  to  the  end  of  the  porch, 
picked  up  the  gun  in  an  easy  manner,  as  though  she  had 
not  seen  Folingsby,  and  disappeared  in  the  house  with 
it.  She  was  nervous  and  bewildered.  A  vague  danger 
seemed  to  cross  her  mind  like  a  film.  She  ran  into  the 
kitchen  with  the  gun  and  looked  out  the  north  window 
with  an  indefinite  purpose  of  warning  Mr.  Joumingham 
away  if  he  should  be  approaching  at  that  time,  and  then, 
confused  and  resentful,  she  began  calling  for  her  sister. 
The  moment  Sylvia  appeared  she  caught  her  round 
the  waist,  and  pulling  her  to  the  door  said: 

"Come  away;  come  away.     I  think  Folingsby  is  on 


THE  UNEXPECTED  265 

the  warpath.  The  Englishman  whipped  him  on  the 
road." 

Sylvia's  apprehensions  of  danger  were  not  so  acute  as 
Kate's.  She  was  inclined  to  regard  such  an  event  half 
humorously. 

"  Good  !  "  she  cried.  "  Now,  if  there  was  only  some- 
body to  whip  the  Englishman,  we  might  rest  content 
while  they  fought  it  out  among  themselves,"  and  she 
started  impulsively  down  the  steps,  followed  by  Kate, 
only  to  meet  Mr.  Joumingham,  who  was  just  now  return- 
ing from  his  ride  with  Kate. 

"I  regret  exceedingly,  my  dear  Kate,"  he  said,  "that 
I  suffered  you  to  come  back  alone." 

Something  like  an  apology  sprang  to  her  lips,  "It 
was  a  very  disgraceful  collision,  sir,"  she  said,  "and  I 
deplore  it  for  your  sake." 

But  he  was  inclined  to  make  light  of  it.  "  One  of  the 
ordinary  instances  of  an  unsettled  country,"  he  said. 
"  I  assure  you  I  was  not  unprepared  for  such  barbarism 
when  I  came  to  America;  but  such  savagery  will 
disappear  as  the  refinements  of  Enghsh  life 
penetrate  this  country.  Believe  me,  it  will  be 
my  highest  duty  to  protect  you  from  the  recurrence 
of  such  scenes." 

He  could  not  even  speak  of  this  incident  without 
thrusting  before  her  again  his  supreme  control  of  her 
destiny,  and  she  winced  under  it  with  a  confused  resent- 
ment. 

"Come  away,  Sylvia,"  she  said.  "I  shall  go  mad 
unless  I  have  some  one  to  talk  to  who  understands  me," 
and  with  that  she  stepped  down  into  the  road,  not 
heeding  where  she  was  going,  and  entered  the  wood, 
closely  followed  by  her  sister;  and  so,  waywardly  ghding 
through  the  trees,  now  glowing  with  the  last  rays  of 


266  THE  CONQUERING  OP  KATE 

sunset,  they  came  out  at  the  stone  fence  enclosing  the 
grass-field  where  the  stumps  were  burning. 

They  leaned  upon  the  stone  enclosure  and  gazed  at 
the  black  mounds  from  which  spirals  of  lazy  smoke  rose 
and  drifted  over  the  acres.  Here  and  there  a  flickering 
red  glow  told  of  the  smouldering  fires,  and  as  the 
shadows  deepened  the  dull  glare  seemed  to  brighten  and 
multiply,  so  that  presently  there  were  receding  heaps 
of  rubbish  throwing  back  innumerable  hints  of  fire  and 
all  enswathed  in  low-lying  scarfs  of  smoke,  tinged  here 
and  there  with  a  bit  of  scarlet. 

In  almost  any  other  mental  condition  the  weird 
beauty  of  the  scene  would  have  appealed  to  her  native 
sense  of  the  wildly  picturesque.  But  just  now  the  field 
looked  like  a  vast  Gehenna.  It  was  burning  in  obedience 
to  her  instructions,  and  her  instructions  after  all  were 
foolishly  obedient  to  the  man  who  had  abandoned  the 
place.  Why  had  she  stopped  to  carry  out  his  suggestion 
so  carefully?  Of  what  avail  was  it  all?  She  leaned 
there  upon  the  fence,  feeling  very  desolate,  until  it  was 
quite  dark.  A  deep  inscrutable  melancholy  of  fore- 
boding seized  upon  her.  The  echo  of  Mr.  Joumingham's 
words  was  like  a  dire  invincible  fate  that  was  enclosing 
her,  and  something  in  her  fought  against  it  with  an 
irrational  vindictiveness. 

Sylvia,  who  was  regarding  her  with  tender  and 
sympathetic  interest,  caught  hold  of  her  sister's  arm, 
saying : 

"Did  you  quarrel  with  him?" 

"Heaven  help  me,  I  tried  to  !" 

"And  failed?" 

"  Utterly.  He  had  his  own  way.  Oh,  Syl,  there  is  no 
use  fighting  against  one's  destiny  when  it  is  predeter- 
mined.    I  must  marry  that  man.     It  is  preordained. 


THE  UNEXPECTED  367 

You  don't  know  him.  He  is  a  mere  instrument  in  the 
hands  of  Fate." 

Sylvia  flared  up  immediately.  "  Do  you  know,  dear, 
that  if  that  man  did  not  give  my  contempt  so  much  to 
do  I'd  have  some  left  for  you.  One  hates  to  have  a 
mouse  for  a  sister." 

"Oh,  you  do  not  understand.  He  has  my  word  for  it. 
He  simply  expects  me  to  keep  my  promise.  It  is  hard 
to  be  a  liar  and  to  sneak  out  of  an  obligation.  Even 
you  could  not  do  that.  No,  no ;  it  is  all  settled.  I  can't 
help  myself.  There  is  nothing  left  for  me  to  do.  You 
must  see  that." 

"  I  don't  see  it  at  all.  You  might  scratch  his  eyes 
out.  But  as  you  can't  relieve  yourself  that  way,  why 
not  act  like  a  frank,  true  woman,  and  tell  him  confiden- 
tially that  you  were  mistaken  in  him — that  now  you  have 
come  to  know  him  better  you  find  to  your  annoyance 
that  he's  an  overweening  bag  of  wind — a  consummate 
old  shallow-minded  braggart,  and  you  couldn't  live  in 
the  same  house  with  him  and  retain  your  self-respect. 
It's  all  so  easy,  dear,  to  one  who  is  only  candid  and  out- 
spoken— and  it's  only  fair  to  him  to  tell  him  the  truth. 
Do  you  know,  dear,  yotir  conduct  puts  me  in  mind  of 
one  of  those  absurdly  horrible  plays  we  saw  in 
Washington  in  which  everybody  was  miserable 
because  nobody  dared  to  speak  five  words  of  common 
sense !" 

Kate  listened  to  this  outburst  impassively.  At  any 
other  time  she  would  have  laughed  at  it.  She  only 
shook  her  head  helplessly. 

"The  only  true  bravery  is  to  face  the  inevitable  and 
make  the  best  of  it,"  she  said.  "You  must  not  worry 
yourself  any  more  about  it." 

Just  then  approaching  footsteps  caused  them  both  to 


268  THE  CONQUERING  OF  KATE 

start  and  look  around,  and  presently  a  man  was  indis- 
tinctly visible  some  twenty  feet  away. 

"Who  is  it?"  demanded  Sylvia. 

Pierson's  voice  answered.  "I've  got  a  letter,"  he 
said.  "I  was  kept  in  the  village  waiting  to  get  the 
horse  shod — just  got  back." 

Kate  took  the  letter.  "Go  back,"'  she  said.  "We 
will  return  to  the  house  presently." 

"Who  is  it  from?"  asked  Sylvia  eagerly, 

Kate  tried  to  read  the  superscription  and  failed. 
There  was  a  little  flame  in  one  of  the  brush-heaps  near 
by,  fanned  into  a  tiny  torch  by  the  breeze.  Sylvia 
pulled  her  sister  toward  it,  throwing  the  shawl  that  she 
had  been  carrying  on  the  fence. 

"Maybe,"  she  said,  "it's  from  Mr.  Brahm." 

They  both  leaned  over,  one  of  them  holding  the  letter 
so  that  the  flicker  of  light  fell  upon  it. 

"No,"  said  Kate,  "it's  only  from  Mr.  John  Burt," 
and  was  about  to  thrust  it  into  the  pocket  of  her  dress. 

Sylvia  caught  her  hand.  "Read  it  to  me,"  she  said. 
"  You  can  at  least  be  frank  with  me.  Come,  I  dare  you, 
sister  dear." 

They  were  close  enough  together  to  see  each  other's 
faces  in  the  dusk,  and  for  one  instant  Kate  felt  as  well 
as  saw  the  appeal  that  was  made  to  her.  Then  she 
gave  the  letter  to  her  sister,  and  Sylvia,  dropping  with 
her  knees  upon  a  flat  stone,  tore  it  open  with  girlish 
impatience,  and  holding  it  sideways  to  the  light,  began 
to  read  it,  while  Kate  stood  by  her  with  one  hand  upon 
her  shoulder. 

"North  Woods,  N.  Y. 
"Miss  Kate  Bussey. 

"Honoured  Mistress:    I  wrote  you  a  brief  letter  yester- 


THE  UNEXPECTED  269 

day,  and  after  it  had  gone  I  received  intelligence  from 
New  York  which  led  me  to  invest  what  money  of  yours 
I  have  in  an  immediate  offer. 

"I  have  been  detained  here  beyond  my  calculations, 
and  feel  that  some  explanation,  if  not  apology,  is  due 
you  for  not  hastening  to  return  in  obedience  to  your 
commands.  Perhaps  it  is  sufficient  to  say  that  your  in- 
terests rather  than  my  own  have  caused  my  delay.  My 
unselfishness  in  this  matter  begins  to  astonish  me.  If 
you  care  to  drop  me  a  few  lines  of  instruction,  address 
them  care  of  Southern  Improvement  Company,  New 
York,  as  they  keep  in  touch  with  me  wherever  there  is 
wire  or  mail.  I  expect  to  be  in  New  York  by  the  first, 
but  shall  not  stay  there  long,  as  I  am  impatient  to 
see  the  Grange  once  more — and  have  the  mistress  renew 
her  orders. 

"Your  obedient  servant, 

"John    Burt." 

Sylvia  dropped  her  hand  with  the  letter  in  it  by  her 
side  and  stared  into  the  little  flame  wonderingly.  A 
moment  later  she  looked  up  into  her  sister's  face 
and  the  fire  threw  a  glow  like  a  blush  over  Kate's 
cheeks. 

"And  you  never  told  me,"  Sylvia  said  with  a  tone  of 
reproach. 
.    "Told  you  what.  Goose?" 

"Dear  me!"  said  Sylvia,  again  looking  into  the  fire. 
"  I  might  have  known  it. " 

"  Give  me  the  letter, "  said  Kate.  "  I  don't  think  you 
understand  it." 

"Yes,  I  do,"  exclaimed  Sylvia,  jumping  up.  "But 
what  is  he  doing  in  the  North  Woods  when  the  dragon  is 
here  in  Franklin  County  ?     I  wish  I  could  hiss  two  words 


2  70  THE  CONQUERING  OF  KATE 

into  his  ear — I  feel  like  Beatrice.  I  wonder  if  one  can 
hiss  over  the  telegraph  wires." 

"Don't  be  foolish,  dear.  What  would  you  say  to 
him?" 

"Say  to  him ? "  cried  Sylvia.  "I  think  I'd  say  to  him, 
'  Come  back  and  kill  Claudio.'  " 

Her  sister  uttered  a  little  gasp.  "Your  impulses  belie 
you,"  she  said.     "Don't." 

"Oh,  I  know, "  replied  Sylvia,  "you are  at  a  great  disr 
advantage  with  me — you  have  no  desperation,  and  you 
never  consider  that  it  isn't  your  heart  only  that  is  to  be 
crushed,  but  mine — and  Mr.  Burt's.  You  are  a  miser- 
ably selfish  creature,  dear,  and  think  of  nobody  in  the 
world  but  that  utterly  unworthy  Englishman.  I  wish 
he  were  dead. " 

Kate  turned  away  and  walked  toward  the  fence.  But 
her  sister  was  after  her  like  a  tiger. 

"Kate,  dear,"  she  said,  catching  her  round  the  waist, 
"he  said  in  the  letter  that  he  had  written  you  the  day 
before.     Did  you  answer  that  letter?" 

"Yes." 

"Did  you  tell  him?" 

"Yes." 

"Are  you  sure?" 

"Well,  if  I  didn't  Aunt  Sussex  did." 

Sylvia  withdrew  her  arm  and  walked  a  little  apart  by 
her  sister's  side. 

"Then  you  have  made  up  your  mind  and  there's  no 
use  talking  about  it?" 

"  Not  a  bit,  dear.     But  you  mustn't  forsake  me. " 

"Forsake  you?  I  am  to  be  bundled  out  of  your  life 
entirely.     It  must  all  be  given  to  that " 

Kate  held  up  her  hand.  "If  he  is  to  be  my  husband, 
you  will  at  least  speak  of  him  with  decent  courtesy. " 


THE  UNEXPECTED  371 

"Oh,  there!"  cried  Sylvia.  "I  left  the  shawl  on  the 
fence.  Wait  a  moment.  I'll  run  back  and  get  it." 
With  that  she  disappeared  in  the  darkness. 

Kate  stopped  to  look  after  her,  and  as  she  stood  there 
peering  into  the  gloom  the  sharp  report  of  a  gim  rang 
out  on  the  still  air.  So  incisive  and  clean  cut  was  the 
sound  that  she  put  her  hand  involuntarily  to  her  breast 
as  if  a  nerve  had  snapped,  but  she  heard  the  echo  come 
back  faintly  clear  from  the  bluff.  It  instantly  occurred 
to  her  that  some  of  the  boys  were  in  the  woods  'coon 
hunting  in  advance  of  the  season,  but  the  dull,  quick 
thud  of  a  horse's  hoofs  as  if  the  animal  were  on  the  jump 
made  her  hold  her  breath,  and  then  came  the  sound  of  a 
woman's  voice — tmmistakably  a  scream  of  terror,  that 
cut  the  night  air  like  a  knife.  Kate  then  gathered  her 
skirts  hurriedly  and  set  out  at  a  run  toward  the  house. 
As  she  approached  it  she  saw  a  lantern  shimmering — 
some  one  was  nmning  in  the  direction  of  the  cries.  It 
was  Pierson,  and  he  turned  into  the  orchard  north  of  the 
house,  where  he  came  to  a  standstill,  and  the  light  of  his 
lantern  disclosed  Leesha  in  the  lane  bending  over  some- 
thing. Kate  came  closer  and  saw  Mr.  Joumingham 
lying  flat  on  his  face  in  the  road,  bleeding.  The  pity  of 
it  made  her  gasp.  As  Pierson  turned  him  over  she  saw 
his  blood-covered  cravat  and  the  torn  furrows  on  his 
forehead.  Then  the  thought  smote  her  that  she  and 
Sylvia  had  been  disparaging  him  and  wishing  that  he 
were  dead.  The  revulsion  of  feeling  overwhelmed  her, 
and  stooping  down,  she  lifted  his  head  in  her  hands,  and 
in  another  moment  Sylvia  was  kneeling  beside  her  in  an 
awe-struck  attitude,  offering  to  help  her.  The  two  girls 
looked  into  each  other's  faces  and  then  turned  and 
looked  out  into  the  night  in  deep  wonder,  without  under- 
standing what  had  come  upon  them.     The  inscrutable 


272  THE  CONQUERING  OF  KATE 

malignancy  of  it  all  seemed  to  benumb  Kate,  until  she 
was  called  to  herself  by  Sylvia's  voice  telling  Pierson 
and  Leesha  to  summon  help  and  carry  Mr.  Journingham 
into  the  house. 

Then  there  was  hurrying  of  feet,  a  confusion  of  voices 
and  audible  consternation  as  they  carried  the  body  into 
the  hall  and  deposited  it  on  the  big  hall  seat. 

Meanwhile,  separated  only  by  a  few  feet  of  earth  and 
screened  by  the  night,  a  very  different  scene  was  taking 
place.  During  the  confusion  in  the  lane,  while  the  house- 
hold was  eagerly  bending  over  the  prostrate  form  of 
Mr.  Journingham,  Folingsby  had  stood  and  glared  in  a 
vindictive,  satisfied  attitude,  with  an  imbecile  sneer  on 
his  face  and  with  the  gun  still  in  his  hands.  He  stood 
there  for  some  minutes  as  still  as  a  phantom.  Then 
seemingly  aroused  to  a  full  sense  of  the  magnitude  of  his 
deed,  he  started  at  a  headlong  manner  in  the  opposite 
direction  from  the  house  to  hide  himself  in  the  blackness 
of  night.  He  had  not  gone  far  into  the  orchard  when  a 
figure  stood  across  his  path,  and  catching  the  gun  from 
his  hand,  said: 

"  Y've  done  it.  I  allers  said  yer  was  a  fool,  Fol  Heck- 
shent,  and  now  y've  done  it.  Stand  still.  Wher'd  yer 
git  it?  'Tain't  youm  nor  Lunt's — Lunt  said  ye  was 
wicked, " 

"It's  the  Englishman's  gun — I  got  it  in  the 
kitchen." 

"Mebbe  I'm  savin'  yer  and  mebbe  I  ain't.  Sech  a 
mean  mule  as  you,  who  wouldn't  keep  his  word  with  a 
deputy — an'  y'r  old  man  a-waitin' — ain't  goin'  to  stan' 
squar'  by  a  gal.  Now,  Fol  Heckshent,  yer  ain't  sech  a 
fox  but  I  got  yer  in  a  comer.  I've  either  got  to  swar  yer 
was  with  me  a  marryin'  at  this  blessed  hour,  or  y've 
got  to  hang  f er  shootin'  a  man.     Which  is  it  ?     If  yer'll 


THE  UNEXPECTED  273 

Stan'  squar'  by  me,  yer'll  find  I've  got  the  grit  to  save 
yen" 

"Suke,  you  know  I've  stacked  on  you  and'U  stand 
yer  squar'.     I  was  makin'  tracks  for  the  Shelf  now." 

Without  more  ado  the  girl  pushed  him  down  on  a 
stone,  saying: 

"Don't  stir  from  that  rock,  Fol  Heckshent,  till  I  come." 

She  sprang  from  him  with  the  agihty  of  a  panther, 
and  without  heeding  the  way  she  moved  with  marvelous 
fleetness  toward  the  house.  Her  only  thought  was  to 
get  that  gun  back  into  the  kitchen.  Had  she  not  heard 
one  of  the  women  out  there  in  the  stump-field  say  she 
wished  some  man  was  dead,  and  here  was  the  gun  that 
did  it  in  her  own  house.  Surely  she  could  save  the 
unworthy  man  she  loved.  Swift  as  were  her  feet,  they 
could  not  keep  pace  with  her  mind  in  this  awful  dilemma. 
Yes,  she  could  swear  he  was  with  her — marrying  her — 
and  that  he  had  no  gun.  She  was  now  almost  through 
the  orchard.  There  was  no  light  in  the  kitchen  at  the 
comer  of  the  house.  But  she  could  hear  voices.  She 
stopped  and  listened.  They  were  bearing  Mr.  Jour- 
ningham  in  at  the  hall  door.  She  waited  iintil  they 
had  all  gone  in,  and  then,  with  an  incredible  swiftness, 
she  slipped  into  the  kitchen  and  deposited  the  gun  near 
the  door.  As  she  came  cautiously  out  and  was  about  to 
retrace  her  way  she  thought  she  saw  a  man  crouching 
at  the  end  of  the  porch.  Without  assuring  herself  and 
without  hesitating,  she  sprang  forward  rapidly.  When 
she  reached  the  spot  where  she  had  left  Folingsby  she 
spoke  his  name.  But  there  was  no  response.  The 
ingrate  had  vanished.  In  a  tumult  of  feeling  the  girl 
sat  down  on  the  stone  upon  which  she  had  left  him  and 
beat  her  head  in  helpless  perplexity.  Where  could  he 
have  gone  ?   Her  wild  nature  could  not  grasp  in  a  moment 


274  THE  CONQUERING  OF  KATE 

the  pusillanimity  or  the  depravity  of  such  a  nature  as 
Folingsby's.  She  sat  there,  crooning  to  herself,  trying 
in  a  stunned  way  to  tinderstand  what  had  happened  and 
how  to  act.  After  all,  her  only  guides  were  her  instincts, 
and  they  were  unerring.  She  asked  herself  again  and 
again  where  he  had  gone  in  that  moment.  She  thought 
of  the  crouching  figure  at  the  porch,  but  everything  in 
her  resented  the  thought  that  it  might  have  been 
Folingsby.  And  yet,  he  would  not  go  up  to  the  Shelf 
knowing  she  was  not  there,  nor  would  he  make  his  way 
to  the  Deputy  after  such  a  deed.  Repulsive  as  was  the 
suggestion  that  the  crouching  figure  was  none  other  than 
Folingsby's,  and  that  with  his  promise  to  her  fresh  on 
his  lips  he  had  made  his  way  back  to  the  scene  of  his 
terrible  deed,  nevertheless  when  that  suggestion  grew 
into  a  conviction  she  sprang  to  her  feet  and  once  more 
found  herself  drawing  near  the  house,  feeling  that  she 
could  still  in  some  way  ward  off  an  impending  danger  to 
the  man  she  was  shielding.  She  was  now  irresolute  and 
hesitating,  but  seemed  drawn  by  some  power  beyond 
herself. 

Again  she  heard  voices,  but  this  time  they  came  from 
the  interior  of  the  house.  She  went  nearer  and  stood 
erect  behind  a  tree  a  few  feet  from  the  porch.  In 
another  instant  the  white  figure  of  a  woman  came  out 
and  walked  slowly  to  the  edge  of  the  steps,  where  she 
stopped  and  lifted  her  arms  upward,  gazing  into  the 
heaven  as  if  appealing  to  it.  Almost  simultaneous 
with  this  act  of  supplication  another  figure — that  of  a 
man — darted  up  the  steps  and  in  imploring  tones,  heavy 
with  the  weight  of  debauch,  cried: 

"Kate,  Kate,  give  one  word  of  hope  to  a  feller  who 
done  what  he  did  fer  your  sake. " 

There  was  a  scream  of  dismay  and  the  white  dress 


THE  UNEXPECTED  275 

fluttered  into  the  hall.  The  night  was  as  still  as  if  no 
burden  of  sin  and  deception  had  ruffled  the  bosom  of  its 
serenity.  But  if  the  senses  of  the  man  at  the  steps  had 
not  been  utterly  deadened  to  all  sounds  but  those  of  self, 
he  would  have  heard  a  moan  of  human  despair  as  the 
poor  creature,  who  would  have  sacrificed  herself  to  save 
him,  swooned  and  sank  into  a  heap  there  under  the 
shadow  of  the  old  Grange. 


CHAPTER  XVIII 
"Heart    Failure" 

Next  morning  the  two  sisters  were  up  looking  into 
the  early  dawn  with  their  arms  wound  about  each  other, 
before  a  sound  stirred  in  the  old  house.  The  east  was 
rosy  with  all  the  expectation  of  a  new  day,  and  the  birds 
exulted  in  a  hallelujah  matin  with  their  usual  indiffer- 
ence to  the  discomfort  and  trials  of  our  world.  To  these 
innocent  women  standing  there  on  the  brink  of  the 
morning  it  seemed  as  though  they  had  just  awakened 
from  a  delusion  of  the  night  into  the  full  hope  of  spotless 
life  calmly  relying  upon  the  promise  of  its  Maker.  At 
no  hour  in  the  twenty-four  does  one  feel  so  transported 
beyond  the  things  of  this  earth  into  infinity  as  at  day- 
break. It  requires  some  wrestling  with  the  actualities 
of  ordinary  life  to  adjust  oneself  to  an  earthly  plane 
after  awakening  into  the  beautiful  dawn  world. 

All  too  soon  the  consciousness  was  upon  the  sisters 
that  they  had  an  ordeal  to  face  that  would  test  stouter 
hearts  than  theirs.  With  their  arms  still  about  each 
other,  they  went  noiselessly  down  the  back  stairs  to 
the  kitchen  in  the  hope  of  finding  Leesha  or  Aunt  Sussex, 
who  might  comfort  them,  and  avoiding  the  front  hall  as 
if  an  unholy  thing  were  there. 

The  whole  aspect  of  this  old  home  was  now  suddenly 
changed,  and  you  can  well  imagine  how  it  looked  to  two 
young  women  so  ignorant  of  the  ways  of  the  world  as 
were  these  daughters.     Not  since  they  were  little  chil- 

276 


"HEART  FAILURE"  277 

dren  had  they  looked  upon  death,  and  now  that  it  had 
come  upon  them  from  out  a  clear  sky  they  were  stunned. 
They  could  not  help  feeling  that  they  themselves  had 
in  some  way  evoked  the  Angel  of  Death  and  asked  him 
to  stop  at  their  door.  Sylvia,  who  the  night  before  had 
been  filled  with  an  impiilse  to  take  the  hand  of  destiny 
in  her  own,  making  her  girlish  invocations,  now  in  the 
full  light  of  the  morning  felt  herself  responsible  for 
having  brought  this  calamity  upon  her  sister.  Had  she 
not  wished  Mr.  Joumingham  was  dead,  and  hardly  had 
the  wish  escaped  her  before  it  was  granted.  It  required 
all  the  assurance  of  Aunt  Sussex  and  of  Kate  to  convince 
Sylvia  that  she  was  in  no  way  to  blame. 

Kate,  who  was  more  outwardly  composed,  neverthe- 
less spared  herself  no  soul-searchings.  She  shared  to  a 
certain  extent  the  same  feeling  in  kind  as  was  her 
sister's.  How  fervently  she  had  longed  to  be  freed  from 
this  man,  whom  she  knew  she  could  never  love,  and  it  had 
seemed  that  she  would  welcome  any  outlet  from  an 
alliance  the  contemplation  of  which  daily  grew  more 
repugnant  to  her !  But  now  that  Fate  in  the  twinkling 
of  an  eye  had  left  her  unfettered  she  felt  an  inexplicable 
yearning  to  call  back  yesterday,  with  its  disagreeable 
environment,  rather  than  endure  the  awful  present, 
with  its  menace  of  publicity  and  misunderstanding,  and 
the  awful  reproach  that  encircled  it.  Reason  as  she 
would,  she  could  not  free  herself  of  the  apprehension 
that  she  might  be  looked  upon  as  in  some  way  morally 
accountable  for  the  death  of  Mr.  Joumingham.  She 
had  brought  him  from  England,  and  but  for  her  he  would 
now  be  hale  and  hearty,  enjoying  his  dinner  at  the  club. 
Was  it  her  sordidness  that  had  brought  it  all  about? 
She  had  really  meant  to  keep  her  promise  to  the  man 
like  a  Bussey  should,  for  even  now  in  her  extremity  she 


2  78  THE  CONQUERING  OF  KATE 

felt  the  blood  of  her  grandmother  leap  in  her  veins  in 
protest  at  any  suggestion  or  thought  that  she  would 
have  betrayed  her  loyalty  to  that  promise.  Kate 
was  endowed  with  such  a  sensitive  and  self-sacrificing 
nature  that  she  could  not  receive  so  great  a  shock  as 
this  without  giving  herself  the  greatest  uneasiness  of 
conscience.  She  saw,  too,  that  her  aunt  wore  a  disap- 
pointed air,  as  if  to  intimate  that  all  inevitable  catas- 
trophes would  have  been  avoided  if  Kate  had  followed 
her  advice  and  married  Mr.  Joumingham  without  delay. 
She  shrank  in  dismay  from  the  publicity  that  now 
threatened  her,  and  clung  to  Sylvia  with  speechless 
reserve. 

Early  as  was  the  hour,  strange  voices  and  strange 
footsteps  were  approaching.  The  big  world  must  have 
heard  of  their  tragedy  and  was  curious.  Kate  instinc- 
tively knew  that  the  people  of  the  countryside  would 
not  understand  her  situation,  and  longed  to  be  hidden 
from  gaze  in  the  recesses  of  her  own  room  or  in  the  quiet 
depths  of  the  woods.  But  there  seemed  to  be  no  escape 
for  her.  Before  Sylvia  and  she  were  aware  of  it,  they 
found  themselves  surrounded  by  a  heterogeneous  com- 
pany which  they  had  not  summoned,  and  it  wore  an 
aspect  of  suspicion,  of  doubt  and  of  curiosity. 

Penelly  Seton  came  excitedly  at  the  sisters,  saying: 

"Do  you  know,  I  wouldn't  believe  it  until  I  came  with 
Mr.  Palgrave  and  saw  it  with  my  own  eyes.  Isn't  it 
awful?     And  no  one  seems  to  know  who  did  it." 

For  the  first  time  in  their  intimacy  Sylvia  felt  dis- 
trustftil  of  her  friend.  At  such  serious  crises  we  feel 
the  hoUowness  or  the  holiness  of  friendship. 

Kate  withdrew  to  a  comer  of  the  hall,  perceiving  that 
the  company  was  momentarily  increasing,  but  not 
realizing   the   meaning   of   such    an    assemblage.     She 


"HEART  FAILURE"  279 

wondered  if  it  could  be  that  humanity  was  so  rabidly 
curious.  The  fact  that  the  people  were  gathering  at  a 
coroner's  inquest  had  never  crossed  her  mind.  She 
indistinctly  saw  a  familiar  face  here  and  there  in  the 
group,  but  for  the  most  part  they  were  strangers. 
Leesha  and  Pierson  came  and  stood  near  her,  and  Leesha, 
bending  over  her,  whispered: 

"Chare  up,  chare  up,  Miss  Kate.  Fore  de  Lo'd,  no 
harm  shall  come  to  y'r.  Unc'l  Dan'l  dun  send  fer  dat 
nigger  Pete  to  tote  him  all  de  way  over  hyar,  for  he  say 
he  reckoned  de  missus  need  'im." 

A  sob  rose  to  Kate's  throat  at  this  rude  fidelity,  but 
their  coarse  pity  touched  her  pride  and  strengthened 
her  resolution  to  brave  all  eyes  and  turn  aside  all 
innuendoes.  Presently  she  saw  Judge  Heckshent  slowly 
making  his  way  through  the  group,  accompanied  by 
Doctor  Dunphy.  She  thought  he  looked  more  broken 
and  feeble  than  she  had  ever  seen  him,  and  a  sense  of 
self-commiseration  filled  her  as  she  realized  that  this 
once  strong  man  and  staunch  friend  no  longer  had  the 
physical  or  mental  power  to  protect  or  defend  her. 
She  now  needed  a  man's  support  and  guardianship  above 
all  else  in  this  world,  but  she  had  never  been  so  bereft 
and  alone  as  she  sat  there  apart  in  that  strange  and 
whispering  throng.  Surely  her  cup  of  helplessness  and 
humiliation  was  full. 

The  Judge  came  and  spoke  kindly  to  Kate  and  tried 
to  allay  her  nervous  fears  with  such  meaningless 
assurances  as  leaped  to  his  lips.  But  Kate  thought 
them  singularly  weak  and  inadequate. 

Suddenly  she  became  aware  of  a  hush  that  seemed  to 
permeate  the  entire  house  and  reach  out  into  space, 
and  in  the  stillness  she  heard  a  strange,  kindly  voice, 
that  Leesha  said  was  the  Coroner's,  say: 


28©  THE  CONQUERING  OF  KATE 

"Judge  Heckshent,  in  this  preliminary  investigation 
I  think  it  would  be  well  to  examine  the  witnesses  most 
closely  connected  with  this  household." 

The  Judge  replied,  "Do  we  understand  that  you  will 
conduct  the  examination?" 

Before  the  Coroner  could  reply,  a  pert  young  man 
jumped  up  and  said:  "Your  Honour — I  appear  in 
behalf  of  Mr.  Joumingham.  He  consulted  with  me 
yesterday  evening  just  before  the  tragedy.  €n  fact, 
he  appears  to  have  ridden  straight  from  my  office  to  his 
death." 

Penelly  Seton  simpered  and  looked  at  the  yoimg 
lawyer  out  of  the  corner  of  her  doll-like  eyes  as 
if  he  and  she  had  some  secret  understanding  or 
special  information.  Sylvia  turned  to  Kate  in  apparent 
disgust  at  this  uncalled-for  demonstration,  as  the 
Coroner  again  spoke: 

"Mr.  Joumingham's  attorney,  Mr.  Palgrave,  appears 
for  the  people,  with  my  permission." 

Then  there  was  an  ominous  debate  among  the  lawyers, 
and  a  break  in  which  Kate  heard  her  name  called,  and 
some  one  led  her  to  a  chair  nearer  the  Coroner  and  his 
jury,  and  Mr.  Palgrave  began  questioning: 

"Now,  Miss  Bussey,  you  will  please  answer  my  ques- 
tions simply." 

Judge  Heckshent  here  objected,  but  the  Coroner  sus- 
tained Mr.  Palgrave  at  the  outset. 

"You  were  engaged  to  be  married  to  the  late  Mr. 
Joumingham?" 

"Yes,  I  was." 

"The  engagement  was  made  by  mail?" 

"Yes." 

"How  long  before  this  sad  occurrence  was  that 
engagement  made?" 


"HEART  FAILURE"  281 

Kate  seemed  uncertain — "About  two  or  three 
months. " 

"By  letter,  you  say?" 

"Yes." 

"And  in  reply  to  that  letter,  Mr.  Joumingham  appeared 
at  the  Grange,  coming  from  Europe." 

"Yes,  sir." 

"After  he  appeared  here  you  had  some  kind  of  a  disa- 
greement with  him." 

"Hardly  a  disagreement.  We  did  not  both  look  at 
the  details  of  the  matter  in  the  same  light.  That 
was  all." 

"You  were  with  Mr.  Joumingham  yesterday  afternoon 
prior  to  his  death." 

"Yes." 

"Were  you  out  on  the  highway,  riding  together?" 

"Yes,  sir." 

"Now,  Miss  Bussey,  please  look  at  this  gun  and  tell 
me  if  you  know  whose  gun  it  is.     Examine  it  well." 

"Yes,  sir.  The  gun  belongs  to  Mr.  Joumingham. 
He  had  it  on  the  porch  before  we  went  riding." 

"Whereabouts  on  the  porch  did  he  place  the  gun?" 

"He  placed  it  at  the  southwest  comer  of  the  porch." 

"How  long  did  it  remain  there?" 

"While  we  were  riding." 

"Who  removed  it?" 

"I  did." 

"Why  did  you  remove  it?" 

"Because  the  comer  of  the  porch  was  no  place  for  it." 

"Where  did  you  remove  it?" 

"I  carried  it  into  the  kitchen." 

"Now,  Miss  Bussey,  tell  the  jury  plainly  and  frankly 
why  you  thought  it  best  to  carry  that  gun  into  the 
kitchen." 


282  THE  CONQUERING  OF  KATE 

"Well,  sir,  there  had  been  an  encounter  between 
Mr.  Journingham  and  young  Mr.  Heckshent.  They 
met  on  the  road,  and  Mr.  Journingham  struck  Mr.  Heck- 
shent across  the  face  with  his  whip,  and  it  occurred  to 
me  that  if  there  were  ill  feelings  between  them  the  gun 
had  better  be  kept  out  of  sight." 

"Your  Honour,"  said  Judge  Heckshent,  "I  must 
object  to  this  line  of  examination.  There  is  no  need 
of  evidence  that  Miss  Bussey  was  thinking  of  the 
possibility  of  Mr.  Journingham  shooting  or  being  shot. 
Thinking  has  nothing  to  do  with  the  facts.  Come  to  the 
facts." 

The  Coroner  utterly  ignored  the  Judge's  objection, 
and  Mr.  Palgrave  pursued  his  questioning  with  renewed 
vigour. 

"When  you  had  taken  the  gun  into  the  kitchen  you 
came  back  immediately  to  the  porch  and  your  sister 
was  with  you." 

"Yes— no— no." 

"At  least,  you  met  Mr.  Journingham  and  were  the 
last  person  to  see  him  alive,  and  you  admit  that  you 
had  the  gun  in  your  hand.  Now,  Your  Honour,  this  is 
important." 

Kate  felt  the  bands  of  evidence  tightening  about 
her  and  was  too  astonished  and  bewildered  to  make  any 
resistance.  Clearly  this  man  meant  to  confuse  her  to 
the  point  of  convicting  herself.  A  certain  terror  and 
awe  seized  upon  her  as  the  attorney  before  her  seemed 
gradually  to  grow  into  the  personification  of  a  Nemesis 
sent  by  the  dead  man  to  persecute  her.  Consciousness 
seemed  receding  and  her  heart  was  like  lead.  The  dis- 
grace of  it  all  wotdd  kill  her,  and  they  would  lay  her  out 
there  beside  the  dead  man  who,  despite  all  obstacles, 
would  claim  her  in  death  «ven  as  he  had  in  life. 


"HEART  FAILURE"  383 

She  heard  the  next  question  as  in  a  trance  and  made 
a  supreme  effort  to  collect  herself. 

"You  and  your  sister  then  left  Mr.  Joumingham  on 
his  horse  and  walked  away.     Where  did  you  go?" 

"We  walked  through  the  wood  to  the  grass-field." 

"Now  tell  the  jury  candidly  why  you  and  your  sister 
walked  to  that  grass-field." 

"I  cannot  tell  why.  I  don't  think  we  had  any  definite 
purpose.  I  think  we  were  both  nervous  and  wished  to 
be  alone." 

"How  long  did  you  stay  in  the  field?" 

"Perhaps  half  an  hour." 

"Did  no  one  else  go  there  while  you  were  there?" 

"Yes." 

"Who  was  it?" 

"Pierson." 

"Why  did  he  go  to  the  field?" 

"He  had  a  letter  for  me." 

"Who  was  that  letter  from?" 

Here  Kate  looked  timidly  at  the  Coroner  and  said: 
"Must  I  answer  that  question,  sir?" 

"I  think  you  had  better  answer  it,  Miss  Bussey." 

"The  letter  was  from  Mr.  John  Burt." 

"Ah,"  said  the  attorney,  with  evident  satisfaction, 
"this  is  getting  interesting.  What  occurred  when  you 
received  the  letter?" 

"My  sister  took  it  and  read  it  by  the  light  of  one  of 
the  burning  stumps." 

"She  was  very  much  surprised  at  it,  was  she  not?" 

Kate  looked  annoyed  and  glanced  round  as  if  some 
one  ought  to  interpose  an  objection,  but  nobody  did. 

"She  was  interested." 

"Now,  Miss  Bussey,  you  may  tell  us  what  you  did 
after  reading  that  letter." 


284  THE  CONQUERING  OF  KATE 

"We  stood  there  talking  in  the  field  and  then  we 
heard  a  shot." 

"Was  there  no  one  else  in  the  field  while  you  were 
there?" 

"No;  I  think  not." 

"Well,  think  again,  Miss  Bussey.  Did  not  Suke  Turck 
come  there?" 

"Not  to  my  knowledge." 

"When  you  came  back  from  the  field  you  went  to  the 
kitchen.  You  were  in  the  kitchen  when  the  gun  was 
fired,  were  you  not?" 

"No,  sir;  I  was  in  the  field." 

"You  are  not  quite  sure  you  were  in  the  field  when  you 
heard  that  shot,  are  you,  Miss  Bussey?" 

"Yes,  sir;  I  am  sure  I  was  in  the  field  when  I  heard 
the  shot." 

"Well,  now,  tell  us  who  you  talked  about  while  you 
stayed  in  the  field." 

Kate  glanced  piteously  about  for  relief,  but  the  lawyer 
again  plied  the  question. 

"I  think  we  talked  about  Mr.  Joumingham." 

"And  whom  else  did  you  talk  about,  Miss  Bussey?" 

"About  Mr.  Burt." 

"Ah — and  did  not  one  of  you  say:  'Send  for  him  to 
come  back  and  kill  Mr.  Joumingham — or  somebody?" 

"No,  no,  no,"  sobbed  Kate. 

"Then  which  of  you  was  it.  Miss  Bussey,  who  said 
she  wished  Mr.  Joumingham  was  dead?" 

Kate  was  horrified  and  powerless  to  answer  the 
attorney.  She  made  a  mute  protest  with  her  hand  and 
shook  her  head,  as  he  continued: 

"As  Miss  Bussey  is  not  quite  sure  about  this,  your 
Honour,  I  will  produce  a  witness  who  was  on  the  spot  and 
heard  the  conversation.     I  will  now  sum  up  this  evidence 


"HEART  FAILURE"  285 

and  proceed  to  show  that  Mr.  Joumingham  came  to  his 
death  as  the  result  of  a  conspiracy  between  Miss  Kate 
Bussey  and  Mr.  John  Burt.  Mr.  Burt's  motives  were 
those  of  a  rival,  and  Miss  Bussey's  those  of  a  woman 
who  felt  herself  forced  to  marry  a  man  for  whom  she 
had  no  affection — she,  in  fact,  had  already  shown  that 
her  aifections  were  given  to  another.  Circumstances 
aided  and  abetted  that  conspiracy  by  placing  a  gun  in 
the  hands  of  an  imscrupulous  person  who  had  already 
quarreled  with  Mr.  Joumingham." 

Here  Judge  Heckshent  rose  to  his  feet  and  strenu- 
ously exclaimed: 

"Your  Honour,  the  learned  gentleman  who  has  come 
to  this  case  appears  to  have  formed  a  theory  of  his  own 
and  is  conducting  it  with  reference  to  his  theory.  I  think, 
Your  Honour,  the  better  way  would  be  to  present  all  the 
facts  that  are  accessible  and  let  the  Coroner's  jury  form 
its  own  theory.  You  are  wasting  time  in  this  line  of 
examination.     Call  your  other  witnesses." 

Kate  was  then  led  back  to  her  chair  and  there  was 
some  discussion  as  to  who  should  be  the  next  witness 
called.  Folingsby  was  brought  in,  but  Lawyer  Palgrave 
insisted  upon  putting  Suke  Turck  into  the  chair  to  con- 
clude his  evidence.  As  the  Deputy  led  the  girl  through 
the  hall  to  the  chair,  they  passed  Folingsby  and  he 
called  out  to  her: 

"Remember  your  promise,  Suke." 

"I  guess  I'm  more  apt  to  remember  a  promise  nor  you 
are,"  she  retorted. 

Lawyer  Palgrave  began  in  a  much  more  self-assured 
manner  with  this  witness,  and  asked  his  first  question 
at  random. 

"Did  you  see  the  gun  fired  that  killed  Mr.  Jouming- 
ham?" 


286  THE  CONQUERING  OF  KATE 

"I  just  did,  sir." 

"Will  you  please  tell  the  jury  who  it  was  fired  the 
gun." 

"It  was  that  man,"  pointing  at  Folingsby.  "I  saw 
him  take  the  gun,  aim  it  and  fire  it." 

There  was  general  consternation,  and  especially  upon 
the  part  of  Lawyer  Palgrave.  There  was  a  hubbub 
among  the  group,  and  presently  a  great  effort  was  made 
to  confuse  Suke  in  her  testimony.  But  the  girl  could  not 
be  budged.     All  she  would  add  was: 

"If  he'd  'a'  been  squar'  with  me  I'd  'a'  saved  him,  but 
he  'lowed  he  was  plum  bad  and  there  ain't  no  way  to 
be  said  but  to  squar'  scores." 

Again  Judge  Heckshent  rose — this  time  with  an 
apparent  effort.  All  eyes  were  now  upon  him,  but  he 
did  not  waver. 

"Your  Honour,"  he  said,  "what  this  girl  says  is  true. 
I  am  in  duty  bound  to  corroborate  her  statement.  She 
tried  undoubtedly  to  shield  the  guilty  person  from  the 
consequences  of  his  act,  which  was  a  noble  impulse  on 
her  part,  and  nothing  prevented  her  from  so  doing  but 
the  utterly  dastardly  conduct  of  the  man  himself.  He 
had  promised  her  to  marry  her.  It  was  the  merest 
reparation — the  simplest  kind  that  he  could  make,  but 
when  it  came  to  keeping  his  word,  he  refused.  The 
daughter  of  my  old  friend  Colonel  John  Bussey  is  an 
innocent  woman.  I  speak  that  which  I  know,  for  the 
culprit  has  confessed  to  me." 

As  he  made  this  last  statement  he  sank  into  his  chair, 
and  the  Coroner  said: 

"I  think.  Judge,  you  had  better  tell  the  jury  who  it 
is  has  confessed  to  you." 

The  Judge  was  now  sitting  bolt  upright,  twitching  his 
neck  in  his  black  stock  uneasily  and  looking  wearily 


"HEART  FAILURE"  287 

about  the  group  as  if  in  search  of  a  friend,  and  then  his 
chin  sank  into  his  stock  as  if  his  last  prop  had  given  way, 
and  an  expression  of  pain  came  into  his  wearied  features 
as  he  said : 

"I  had  hoped  to  escape  this,  but  Heaven  has  placed  it 
squarely  before  me  as  a  duty,  and  as  God  is  my  witness 
I  cannot  at  this  point  in  my  life  dodge  it.  I  wotdd  have 
justice  done  though  the  Heavens  should  fall.  The 
evidence  now  before  you  is  circumstantial,  direct  and 
immistakable.  You  will  never  know  what  it  costs  me 
to  say  this,  gentlemen,  but  cost  what  it  may,  my  whole 
life  has  been  given  unfalteringly  to  justice  and  truth, 
and  I  do  not  at  this  late  hour  in  my  life  intend  to  be 
recreant  to  the  highest  and  noblest  motives  which  can 
influence  a  man  in  the  performance  of  his  duty.  If  you 
will  permit  the  witnesses  to  proceed  you  will  find  that 
the  murderer  of  Mr.  Joumingham  is  my  son." 

He  gave  a  gasp  as  he  said  it,  and  a  little  murmur  of 
pity  and  sympathy  ran  round  the  group. 

"This  admission  on  my  part,  gentlemen,  is  costing 
me  my  life,  but  that  is  a  small  consideration  in  view  of 
the  demands  of  justice." 

He  wavered  in  his  chair  and  would  have  fallen  out 
upon  his  face  if  Doctor  Dunphy  had  not  caught  him  and 
held  him  back.  It  was  very  evident  to  all  of  them  that 
he  was  in  no  condition  to  withstand  more,  and  the  Coroner 
moved  an  adjournment  and  dismissed  the  jury.  Kate 
and  Sylvia  were  immediately  at  the  Judge's  side,  crying: 
"Uncle  Caleb!  Uncle  Caleb!"  Several  of  the  friends 
came  up  and  pressed  about  him,  for  they  all  took  a 
kindly  interest  in  him,  but  Doctor  Dunphy  ordered 
them  all  away,  and  calling  Pierson  they  bore  him  up  the 
stairs  with  gentle  hands  and  sat  him  there  on  the  edge 
of  the  bed  in  the  big  room  in  the  east  wing  where  his 


288  THE  CONQUERING  OF  KATE 

dear  old  benefactress  Dame  Bussey  and  her  son  Colonel 
John  had  breathed  their  last.  He  sat  there  a  few 
moments  with  Kate  and  Sylvia  by  his  side,  but  presently 
he  grew  so  weak  that  he  fell  over  on  the  bed  and  they 
did  not  attempt  to  lift  him  up  again. 

The  closing  scenes  of  the  Judge's  life  were  pathetic 
in  the  extreme  to  those  who  knew  and  loved  him.  He 
suffered  very  little  physical  pain,  but  his  mind  gave 
way  under  his  affliction  and  began  to  ramble : 

"My  dear  Kate,"  he  said,  "this  is  all  terribly  cruel  to 
Folly  and  you  must  break  it  to  him  gently.  Remember 
how  tender  and  fragile  are  the  susceptibilities  of  the 
young — I  think  I  had  better  do  it  myself  if  you  will 
bring  him  to  me." 

Kate  left  Sylvia  by  his  side  and  shortly  reappeared, 
bringing  Folingsby.  He  was  dressed  in  a  velvet  jacket 
from  the  broadside  pocket  of  which  flamed  two  bandanna 
handkerchiefs,  making  him  look  like  a  young  Vacquero. 
Kate  seated  him  beside  his  father.  The  sight  of  Fol- 
ingsby in  this  velvet  jacket  seemed  to  bring  to  his  father's 
mind  a  renewal  of  many  of  its  early  impressions,  and  he 
maundered  of  a  picture  he  had  of  Folingsby  in  a  velvet 
jacket  with  a  big  white  collar,  taken  when  he  was  a  child, 
at  which  time  the  Judge  used  to  lead  him  out  and  be  so 
proud  of  him.  The  Judge's  mind  gave  way  entirely, 
and  he  maudled  about  Folingsby  and  the  future  until 
Kate,  unable  to  withstand  the  pity  of  it,  beckoned  to 
the  deputy  at  the  door  to  take  Folingsby  away.  But 
that  young  man  entirely  disregarded  these  sentiments 
of  his  father.  He  thought  he  had  been  cruelly  wronged, 
and  that  his  father  ought  to  stand  by  him  even  in 
crime,  which  belief  had  been  fostered  by  his  mother. 

Then  the  little  family  of  women  gathered  in  the  room 
downstairs  and  waited  for  the  Judge  to  pass  quietly  out 


"HEART  FAILURE"  289 

of  one  life  into  another,  the  inextinguishable  pity  of  it 
making  them  dumb  even  when  most  wrought  upon. 
This  was  the  situation  on  the  succeeding  Sunday  morn- 
ing when  the  Doctor  gave  them  to  imderstand  that  the 
Judge  had  passed  beyond  medical  control,  and  on  Sunday 
night  he  died  quietly,  with  his  hand  on  Folingsby's 
shoulder.  As  they  turned  him  over  on  the  bed,  Doctor 
Dunphy,  with  his  chipper  reassurance,  walked  about 
the  group  and  whispered  in  each  ear: 

"It's  all  right — simply  heart  failure.  He  did  not 
suffer  any. " 

So  the  old  gentleman  passed  from  this  vale  of  tears 
into  another  world,  encompassed  by  the  same  lies  and 
hypocrisy  that  had  made  his  life  a  waste.  "  Heart 
failure"  was  a  most  comprehensive  official  explanation, 
and  they  all  accepted  it  as  such.  Heart  failure,  indeed, 
it  was,  but  the  heart  failure  of  a  life — not  of  a  crisis. 
The  man  that  had  been  hungering  through  all  his  years 
for  the  reasonable  affection  of  a  son  went  out  into  the 
darkness  without  feeling  it  and  leaving  behind  him  a 
tangled  web  of  possibilities  in  which  there  was  no  kindly 
gleam. 


CHAPTER  XIX 
A  Revelation 

On  a  beautiful  September  morning  the  University 
Club  in  New  York  City  broke  out  into  decorative  hys- 
terics. It  was  in  a  flutter  of  mild  excitement  from  its 
cornice  to  its  curb.  Thousands  of  little  flags  danced  all 
over  it.  Music  of  a  gallopading  order  issued  from  its 
parlour  windows,  and  experienced  listeners  who  passed 
by  knew  that  some  great  pianist  was  exercising  his 
arms  on  a  grand  piano  and  was  extracting  octaves — as 
John  Burt,  who  sat  in  the  smoking-room,  would  have 
said — "in  much  the  same  manner  as  wood-pulp  is 
extracted  from  an  unseemly  trunk."  Groups  of  listeners 
on  the  sidewalk  and  in  vehicles  that  were  drawn  up  to  the 
curb  occasionally  applauded,  and  handkerchiefs  waved 
from  passing  carriages. 

Tony  Brahm  came  into  the  smoking-room  on  the 
jump,  and  calling  to  John  Burt,  said: 

"  Don't  you  want  to  see  the  best  part  of  the  exhibition 
— it's  on  the  street  and  some  of  our  old  friends  are  in  it." 
Whereupon  the  two  men  lit  their  cigars,  and  going  down 
into  the  billiard  room,  drew  their  chairs  up  to  the  win- 
dows and  complacently  watched,  first  the  gay  equipages 
in  the  street,  and  next  the  ennuied  billiard  players  who 
seemed  to  have  grown  weary  under  too  much  of  this 
kind  of  excitement. 

It  was  one  of  those  hot  September  days  when  summer 
reasserts  herself  in  a  little  spasm  of  sultry  insistence. 

290 


A  REVELATION  291 

Tony  Brahm  was  in  a  condition  of  lassitude  and  looked 
beamingly  liixuriant  as  he  puffed  his  cigar  and  regarded 
his  old  friend. 

"You  seem  to  be  unusually  chipper  this  morning,"  he 
said.  "How  do  you  manage  it  on  such  a  hot  day?  I 
have  been  watching  you  ever  since  breakfast  and  you  are 
as  nervous  and  restless  as  a  grasshopper. " 

"  You  might  say  as  a  cricket,  for  I  just  came  out  of  the 
woods,"  John  replied. 

"Well,  at  any  rate,  you  make  me  feel  positively  torrid 
the  way  you  jump  about, "  said  Tony.  "Why  don't  you 
sit  still  and  take  things  calmly,  as  I  do  ?  One  never  would 
suspect  you  only  had  three  hours'  sleep  last  night.  What 
time  did  that  infernal  train  get  in  anyhow  ?  I  waited  up 
for  you  till  near  midnight,  for  I've  got  a  lot  to  say  to  you. 
You  haven't  let  me  get  my  oar  in  once  about  Cuba,  and 
I've  been  waiting  nearly  four  weeks  for  you  to  get  back 
from  the  piney  region — but,  by  Jove,  I  didn't  suppose 
you'd  land  here  on  the  hottest  day  of  the  year."  And 
Tony  pulled  out  a  white  silk  handkerchief  of  ample  size 
and  mopped  his  forehead  and  neck  with  it. 

John  gave  little  heed  to  his  friend's  entreaties  until  he 
had  carefully  and  systematically  adjusted  a  bunch  of 
legal  papers  and  opened  and  shut  a  large-sized  bulgy 
wallet  a  score  of  times.  Then,  poking  them  all  well 
down  into  his  pockets,  he  settled  back  in  his  chair  in 
imitation  of  Tony's  attitude  and  tried  to  look  cool  and 
receptive. 

"Do  you  know,  Tony,  I've  won  out  big  on  wood-pulp 
this  time,  and  I  want  you  to  know  something  about  the 
advantages ' ' 

"Oh,  hang  wood-pulp ! "  exclaimed  Tony.  " I  tell  you 
I'm  full  of  Cuba,  and  just  at  present  must  talk  about  it 
or  get  under  that  ice  cooler.     General  Jordan  was  here 


292  THE  CONQUERING  OP  KATE 

yesterday — just  up  from  Cuba  on  a  furlough — and 
stirred  me  all  up  again.  I  am  convinced  more  than  ever 
that  you  and  I  will  miss  the  opportunity  of  our  lives  if 
we  don't  get  'm  there  now  and  make  things  hum  with  our 
northern  industry.  Why,  man,  where  those  fellows 
down  there  turn  out  a  few  cargoes  of  coffee  and  sugar  a 
season,  you  and  I,  with  your  engineering  and  agricultural 
knowledge,  can  double- discount  them — and,  besides,  I 
propose  to  own  two  or  three  vessels  of  my  own  for  trans- 
portation. Then,  when  the  United  States  gets  in  there, 
as  she's  bound  to  do,  we'll  have  things  our  own  way. 
Don't  you  see  it  ?  Why  don't  you  say  something  ?  By 
Jove,  you're  as  cool  as  a  hot  day  in  San  Francisco. " 

"And  you, "  said  John  Burt,  "  are  as  irrational  as  a  hot 
day  in  Cuba.  Who  in  thunder  would  want  to  go  down 
there  now,  when  the  yellow  fever  is  probably  putting  in 
its  beneficent  work  thinning  out  the  inhabitants  that  the 
insurgents  happen  to  have  left  alive  ?  There's  no  reason 
why  we  should  go  down  there  at  the  deadliest  moment, 
when  a  little  patience  will  allow  the  season  to  arrange 
itself  to  our  comfort.  No,  sir;  we  can  complete  our  plans, 
I'll  add  a  little  to  my  capital,  and  then  we'll  slip  out  just 
before  the  winter  sets  in  to  make  the  temperate  zone 
unbearable.  It  is  better  to  mature  our  details 
thoroughly,  and  then,  sometime  in  November, 
perhaps " 

"  You  always  were  a  methodical  cuss.  Jack,  and  that's 
just  the  reason  I  want  to  lasso  you.  Now,  see  here,  you 
can't  make  a  fortune  out  of  wood-pulp.  Sugar  and 
coffee  are  your  game.  And  if  it's  money  that  you're 
waiting  for,  hang  it,  man,  look  at  me — don't  I  look  good 
enough  to  supply  any  demand?" 

"When  I  look  at  your  sanguine  blue  eyes,  pink  skin 
and  fat  pocketbook,"  said  John,  "you  do  appear  to  be 


A  REVELATION  293 

a  wonderful  fellow — I  might  almost  say  you  seem  a 
Monto  Cristo  to  my  practical  vision." 

"Well,  I'm  off  to  Cuba  next  month,  and  I  want  you 
to  make  up  your  mind  that  you're  going  with  me,  I'll 
see  to  it  that  you'll  never  regret  it,  and  next  year  this 
time  wood-pulp  will  look  to  you  like  a  dream  of  the 
Middle  Ages.  There  are  one  or  two  things  that  I've  got 
to  attend  to  before  I  clear  out,  and  one  of  them  is  that 
I'm  booked  for  a  wedding  at  the  Grange  sometime  before 
long.     You're  going  down,  too,  aren't  you?" 

John  looked  up  incredulously.  "You  don't  say  you 
are  serious  about  it !  Well,  I'm  not  much  surprised, 
for  any  one  with  half  an  eye  could  see  that  the  Httle  imp 
in  the  Garibaldi  was  fluttering  about  you  like  a  butterfly. 
She  was  calling  you  pet  names  before  we  left.  I  never 
had  any  one  think  enough  of  me  to  call  me  '  Butter  and 

Eggs!'" 

"Except  it  was  that  Gretchen  at  Wittemburg,"  said 
Tony. 

"Oh,  you  were  the  lucky  fellow  in  that  respect,  too," 
said  John,  "and  I  often  thought  that  you  might  have 
some  intention  in  that  direction." 

"Not  a  bit  of  it,"  said  Tony.  "My  taste  has  grown 
since  then.  Her  speech,  like  her  build,  was  too  heavy, 
and  her  fists  were  made  up  of  dimples  that  she  was 
always  ready  to  throw  at  you  on  the  slightest  provo- 
cation." 

"They  stuck  where  she  threw  them,  at  any  rate,"  said 
John.  "You've  got  three  or  four  of  them  around  your 
mouth  now.  No  wonder  the  little  woman  at  the  Grange, 
and  even  her  staid  aunt,  were  fascinated.  Such  dimples 
are  irresistible.  Mine,  you  see,  fell  off  long  ago — when 
I  left  Wittemburg — or  was  it  the  Grange." 

John  glanced  at  Tony  and  caught  him  bowing  to  some 


294  THE  CONQUERING  OF  KATE 

one  through  the  open  window  and  waving  his  handker- 
chief indolently,  apparently  giving  no  heed  to  his  last 
words.  Then  John  turned  squarely  upon  his  friend, 
saying : 

"Now,  I  don't  mind  making  a  confidant  of  you,  old 
fellow,  if  you  will  give  me  a  little  attention,  but  first  I 
must  tell  you  that  I  am  not  going  to  wait  until  next 
month  or  for  your  wedding  before  I  make  my  trip  to  the 
Grange.  I've  been  collecting  a  nice  little  pile  for  Miss 
Bussey  as  well  as  for  myself,  and  I'm  going  down  there 
to-morrow  to  deliver  this  check  into  her  own  hands  and 
see  how  things  are  progressing  in  the  fields.  Take  a 
look  at  that." 

And  he  handed  Tony  a  check  of  $10,000,  payable  to 
the  order  of  Miss  Kate  Bussey. 

"You  see.  Miss  Bussey  could  pay  off  half  the  indebted- 
ness of  her  estate  with  that  amount  if  she  was  disposed 
to  use  it  in  that  way,  and  I  have  a  notion  that  she  will 
do  it.  Then,  I  have  arranged  with  the  Southern  Improve- 
ment Company  to  take  about  one  hundred  acres  of  that 
upland  you  admired  and  erect  a  sanitarium  on  it,  if  she 
will  part  with  it.  That  ought  to  give  her  enough  to  clear 
the  entire  estate  of  all  liens  and  stand  it  on  its  own  legs. 
You  understand  I  left  some  orders  down  there  for  the 
improvement  of  the  place.  I'll  only  stay  a  day  or  so, 
for  I'm  due  at  the  North  Woods  again  by  the  end  of  the 
week.  But  I'll  return  from  there  in  time  to  be  your  best 
man — in  October,  didn't  you  say  ?  By  the  way,  you 
haven't  asked  me  yet,  have  you,  old  chap?" 

"If  you  were  not  so  taken  up  with  your  own  affairs 
you'd  stop  your  enthusiastic  gabble  and  listen  to  me  a 
minute  instead  of  getting  things  topsy  turvy.  I  haven't 
said  a  word  about  my  own  wedding.  I  said  I  was  going 
to  Miss  Kate  Bussey's  wedding,  and  I  should  judge  from 


A  REVELATION  295 

appearances  that  your  check  will  come  in  just  about 
right  to  procure  her  trousseau,  instead  of  settling  up  an . 
estate.   I  supposed  you  had  heard  all  about  it,  and  thought 
we  would  go  down  together  just  to  pay  our  respects  to 
the  bride." 

John  Burt  stared  straight  ahead  as  if  interested  only 
in  the  palpitating  flags  that  encircled  the  window,  and 
he  made  no  reply.  The  revelation  stunned  him.  Tony 
indolently  turned  his  head  toward  him  and  asked: 

"Well,  have  you  gone  to  sleep,  or  isn't  the  subject  of 
enough  importance  to  give  a  fellow  an  answer?  Will 
you  go?" 

John  assumed  an  air  of  blank  indifference  and  asked: 
"Where  did  you  get  your  information?  This  is  the 
first  I  have  heard  of  it." 

"Had  a  letter  from  the  aunt,  and  she  said  she'd 
written  to  you  about  it,  too,"  and  he  took  a  diminutive 
lavender-coloured  missive  from  his  pocket,  fanned  him- 
self with  it  a  moment,  and  passed  it  to  John  to  read. 

After  some  moments'  silence  John  asked:  "Who  the 
devil  is  Joumingham?" 

"Why,  man,  he's  the  passenger  that  was  lost  on  the 
Oceanica.  You  must  remember  him,"  and  Tony  let  out 
a  guffaw  that  shook  the  chair  he  sat  in.  "Miss  Kate 
Bussey  has  been  engaged  to  him  for  a  long  time — since 
May  or  June,  I  believe.  Say,  John,  by  the  expression 
of  your  face  you  must  be  terribly  struck.  Is  there  any- 
thing wrong  ?  If  there's  anything  I  can  do  for  you,  old 
boy,  say  so." 

John  sat  there  as  stolid  as  a  rock.  His  hands  went  a 
little  deeper  into  his  pockets,  but  that  was  the  only 
demonstration  he  made.  When  he  spoke  again  his 
words  came  with  calm  deliberation: 

"It's  hard  to  believe  human  nature  capable  of  such 


296  THE  CONQUERING  OF  KATE 

duplicity.  Give  me  time  to  think — ^perhaps  you  can 
do  something  for  me,  Tony." 

The  piano  began  to  thump  again  at  full  swing,  and  it 
sounded  to  John,  as  he  sat  there  in  a  deep  reverie,  like 
some  infernal  orchestra  devised  to  make  men  mad. 
Tony  watched  his  friend's  mood  with  some  perplexity. 
Suddenly  John  turned  as  if  he  had  thought  it  all  out 
and  had  come  to  a  pronounced  decision  that  demanded 
instant  action. 

"Tony — I  must  postpone  my  trip  to  the  Grange. 
You  say  you  are  going  down  there  soon,  and  you  can 
deliver  a  package  to  Miss  Bussey  for  me.  Will  you 
do  it?" 

"Oh.  pshaw!  Come  along  down  with  me,  and  we'll 
rustle  them  up.  We  might  get  ourselves  up  like  guar- 
dian angels.  You've  just  explained  to  me  that  you've 
got  the  business  part  of  it  all  arranged,  and  you'll  have 
to  go  and  explain  it  to  Miss  Bussey,  too,  of  course." 

"Guardian  angels  never  go  in  pairs.  I  should  think 
you  would  know  that.  Whenever  we  have  tried  it  we 
began  to  fall  over  each  other.  Besides,  guardian  angels 
never  arrange  the  practicalities.  No,  you  play  the 
part  of  Claude  Melnotte — you'll  have  my  ducats  with 
you  all  ready  to  throw  at  them — and  leave  the  sterner 
duties  of  life  to  me.  You  see,  I  have  a  clear  sense  of  the 
course  of  action  I  ought  to  pursue  in  any  such  condition 
of  affairs.  So  I  guess,  old  friend,  on  sober  second 
thought,  I  will  go  to  Cuba  to-morrow  instead  of  to  the 
Grange." 

He  got  up  and  began  walking  about  in  the  endeavour 
to  relieve  his  feelings  and  to  clench  his  decision. 

"I  can  go  ahead  and  prospect  a  little,"  he  continued, 
"  and  get  things  in  shape  for  you  when  you  want  to  come 
down  later.      I'll  leave  my  wood-pulp  interests  in  the 


A  REVELATION  297 

hands  of  my  uncle  for  a  month  or  so  and  look  into  sugar 
and  coffee." 

"  Oh,"  said  Tony.  "  I  thought  you  said  a  few  minutes 
ago  that  the  yellow  fever  might  carry  you  off  at  this 
season  of  the  year.     You  don't  want  to  die  yet,  do  you .''" 

"No,  I  only  want  to  get  straightened  out  a  bit,  and 
perhaps  Cuba  will  do  as  well  as  any  other  place — better 
than  the  North  Woods,  at  any  rate.  I  suppose  you  think 
me  changeable,  but  hang  it  all,  my  interest  in  wood-pulp 
has  taken  a  tremendous  drop." 

"Well,  it  seems  to  me,"  said  Tony,  "that  you're  in  an 
infernal  hurry.  There's  a  suddenness  about  you  that 
rustles  my  tranquillity.  I'd  go  with  you,  but  Aunt 
Sussex  might  need  me  at  the  Grange."  And  a  sly  light 
came  into  the  blue  eyes  and  the  dimples  began  to  play 
about  his  mouth. 

"How  about  the  other  little  woman?" 

"Well,  Jack,  I'm  bound  to  confess  that  whenever  I 
caught  that  little  chunk  of  womanhood  looking  me 
squarely  in  the  face  and  gazing  into  these  confounded 
dimples,  an  absurd  notion  possessed  me  that  she  was 
putting  out  her  little  hand  timidly  and  that  I  ought  to 
catch  hold  of  it.  But  I  never  did,  and  I  think  I'd 
better  go  down  and  see  about  it  now  before  I  go  to  Cuba, 
and  you  ought  to  come  along." 

"No,  old  man;  you  go  right  along  down  there  if  you 
feel  that  way  about  it,  and,  as  Judge  Heckshent  would 
say,  I  will  attend  to  the  'prac-ti-cal-i-ties.'  I  was  made 
to  conquer  the  unattainable — unless  it  should  happen 
to  be  a  woman.  I  never  stopped  but  once  to  look  in  any 
other  direction,  and  when  I  did  I  found  I  had  made 
a  fool  of  myself  and  was  usurping  another  man's  place. 
There's  only  one  thing  about  it — Miss  Bussey  must  find 
another  overseer.     I  shall  seek  green  fields  and  pastures 


298  THE  CONQUERING  OF  KATE 

new.     Let  us  not  talk  any  more  about  it.     My  mind  is 
made  up.     I'll  see  you  again  to-night,  old  chap." 

With  that,  he  turned  abruptly  and  went  down  to  the 
reading-room,  and  in  the  heart  of  the  gala  day,  sur- 
rounded by  laughter  and  merriment,  burying  his  deep 
chagrin  and  disappointment,  he  wrote  a  last  letter  to 
the  only  woman  he  had  ever  cared  for. 

"  University  Club,  New  York  City. 
"  Miss  Kate  Bussey. 

''Honoured  Mistress :  Enclosed  you  will  find  check  for 
the  amount  of  money  you  placed  in  my  keeping  with  its 
increment  to  date.  Trusting  that  you  will  feel  no 
annoyance  at  having  put  it  in  my  hands,  and  with 
regrets  that  I  can  no  longer  handle  it  to  your  advantage, 
I  beg  to  subscribe  myself, 

"Your  obedient  servant, 

"  John  Burt. 
"P.  S. — If  you  want  to  sell  one  hundred  acres  of  upland 
to  the  Southern  Improvement  Company  of  New  York, 
communicate  with  them  at  once.  J.  B." 

He  then  took  from  his  wallet  a  little  flat  bunch  of 
faded  rosebuds  and  slipped  them  in  beside  the  check, 
where  they  seemed  to  nestle  easily. 

Next  day  he  placed  the  package  in  Tony  Brahm's 
keeping  when  that  young  man  accompanied  him  to  the 
steamer.  Tony  clung  to  his  friend's  hand  and  gave 
him  many  parting  admonitions  about  his  work  in  Cuba, 
and,  making  all  sorts  of  jocular  promises  with  regard  to 
the  part  he  himself  would  play  when  he  went  to  the 
Grange,  he  asked  John  if  he  hadn't  some  further  word  to 
send  to  its  mistress. 

"After  all,  Tony,"   replied  John,   "a  man  ought  to 


A  REVELATION  399 

treat  a  woman  of  Miss  Kate  Bussey's  nobility  of  char- 
acter with  the  utmost  magnanimity.  I  have  endeav- 
oured to  do  so  in  this  letter,  but  I  fear  that  heretofore 
in  my  relations  with  her  I  must  have  fallen  far  short  of 
that  standard.  She  is  a  woman  of  pride  and  spirit 
well  worth  any  man's  conquering,  and  Mr.  Joumingham 
must  be  a  man  of  extraordinary  character  to  have  won 
her.  I  can  see  very  plainly  now  that  such  a  practical 
drone  as  I  am  could  never  fulfil  her  ideal.  Give  her  a 
hearty  godspeed  from  her  former  overseer  and  hand 
her  the  package — old  chap — don't  forget." 

"Well,  the  deuce,  if  the  situation  don't  grow  more 
like  that  in  the  play  all  the  time !  I'll  have  to  go  and 
hunt  up  the  'Lady  of  Lyons'  and  see  just  what  it  is 
Claude  Melnotte  says,  anyhow,  or  I'll  never  do  the  thing 
up  right.  Good-by,  Jack,"  he  shouted,  as  the  vessel 
moved  from  the  wharf;  "rely  on  me  to  be  with  you  in 
less  than  a  month." 

Thus,  as  circumstances  would  have  it,  while  Kate 
Bussey  sat  helpless  at  the  bedside  of  her  old  friend,  the 
Judge,  the  man  she  most  needed  to  come  to  her  assistance 
was  on  the  steamer  bound  for  Cuba. 


CHAPTER  XX 

The  Devil's  Link  in  the  Chain  of  Nature  and  Other 
Links  Not  so  Satanic 

Once  more  in  its  history  the  Grange  was  without  a 
man  and  rudderless.  It  sank  easily  into  its  former 
condition  of  suppression  and  took  on  the  atmosphere 
of  reticence  and  solemnity  that  appealed  to  the  reader 
at  an  earlier  period  in  its  record  before  John  Burt's 
shadow  fell  across  the  acres  to  disturb  with  a  man's 
enterprise  the  tranquillity  of  a  slumbering  estate. 

The  same  sweet  air  steals  up  from  the  south  and 
enswathes  the  old  home  with  a  drowsy  embrace,  but  the 
sparkle  and  brilliancy  of  June  have  given  way  to  a 
delightful  haziness  that  betokens  the  fall  of  the  year 
and  breathes  of  October.  You  can  no  longer  discern 
the  misty  peaks  in  the  distance  or  note  the  clarity  of  the 
air.  A  golden  shimmering  film  covers  the  landscape 
and  fills  one  with  a  languor  and  sadness  that  belong  to 
the  dying  year. 

Leesha  comes  out  several  times  a  day  and  sweeps  the 
falling  leaves  from  the  broad  portico  as  if  she  had  a  spite 
against  the  season  and  saw  no  beauty  in  the  many- 
coloured  carpet  it  is  spreading.  You  would  feel,  if  you 
stood  there  with  her  a  moment,  that  a  deeper  spell  than 
ever  hovered  over  the  place,  and  that  any  one  who 
entered  the  enchanted  domain  would  sink  into  stupefying 
listlessness.     Especially  would  you  feel  this  now  that 

30© 


THE  DEVIL'S  AND  OTHER  LINKS        301 

women  alone  inhabit  it  and  indolently  leave  it  to  expire 
in  its  own  inertia. 

Such  was  the  condition  of  the  home  one  morning 
some  four  weeks  after  the  Judge'^  death  when  Sylvia, 
who  had  recovered  her  ebullient  spirits,  exploded  into 
girlish  protest. 

"There's  not  a  man  on  the  whole  horizon,"  she  said. 
"Even  if  we  knew  Folingsby  were  about  haunting  the 
place  it  would  be  a  relief.  But  his  mother  had  to  clear 
him  out  to  the  Mussel  Shoals  or  somewhere  while  the 
Deputy's  eye  was  off  him.  Now  she  will  have  full  sway  here 
— and  add  another  woman  to  the  difficulties.  I  wonder  if 
the  Sheriff  will  find  Folingsby  again  away  off  down  there." 

"How  can  you  speak  so  lightly  of  that  outlaw?"  said 
Aimt  Sussex.  "Let  us  hope  that  we  never  will  hear  of 
him  again — and  I  trust  that  you  will  refrain  from  men- 
tioning him  again  in  my  presence. " 

"  He  will  probably  at  no  time  see  this  part  of  the  world 
again,  Aunt,"  said  Kate  calmly,  "and  I  can  say  for 
myself  that  I  wish  the  Sheriff  would  not  try  to  find  him. 
Folingsby  will  have  punishment  enough  in  his  own  con- 
science, especially  if  Mr.  Joumingham  haunts  him  as  he 
does  me." 

"That  sounds  very  magnanimous,"  said  her  aunt, 
"but  it  is  far  from  justice.  The  authorities  are  dealing 
with  that  young  rascal  in  entirely  too  lenient  a  manner. 
It  is  not  enough  that  they  allowed  him  to  escape — 
I  believe  they  mean  to  let  him  go  altogether  just 
on  account  of  the  Judge's  character  and  memory. 
It  was  a  good  thing  they  got  him  away  when  they  did  or 
I  should  not  have  stayed  here  another  day. " 

Kate  was  not  in  an  opposing  mood,  and  went  out  upon 
the  porch  and  sat  down  on  the  steps,  where  she  rested 
against    one   of   the   white   pillars.     Sylvia    and    Aunt 


302  THE  CONQUERING  OF  KATE 

Sussex  followed  her,  but  maintained  a  silence  which  was 
broken  only  by  the  sighing  breeze  and  the  falling  leaves 
from  the  rustling  vines.  These  women  had  been  filled 
with  vague  anxieties  for  some  weeks,  but  out  of  con- 
sideration for  one  another  refrained  from  expressing 
them.     After  a  few  moments  Kate  said : 

"  I  think  I'll  take  a  little  walk. " 

"You  don't  care  for  my  company  any  more,  do  you?" 
said  Sylvia. 

"Yes,  I  do, "  answered  Kate.  "You  shall  go  with  me. 
We'll  go  and  see  how  Unc'l  Dan'l's  rheumatism  is 
to-day." 

Sylvia  was  unusually  exuberant  when  they  set  out. 
Some  kind  of  growing  chasm  in  their  lives  had  been  dis- 
covered, and  they  both  felt  like  closing  it  up.  They 
walked  along  side  by  side  until  they  reached  the  river, 
when  Sylvia  said: 

"Don't  you  think,  Kate,  that  we  should  be  perfectly 
happy  always  if  we  simply  had  each  other?" 

To  which  Kate  answered,  "I  hope,  dear,  that  we 
always  will  have  each  other,  no  matter  what  else  may 
happen. " 

"I  don't  believe,"  cried  Sylvia,  "that  anything  more 
dreadful  can  happen  than  has  already  taken  place." 

"Don't  you?"  asked  Kate.  "What  do  you  think 
Mrs.  Heckshent  is  going  to  do?  You  see  the  way  she 
rides  about  the  place  day  after  day,  and  early  this  morn- 
ing I  thought  surely  she  was  coming  in.  She  is  simply 
waiting  to  see  what  we  are  going  to  do  about  the  mort- 
gage, and  as  we  are  absolutely  unable  to  do  anything 
about  it  she  will  be  very  apt  to  act  upon  the  matter 
herself  in  a  very  emphatic  way.  How  I  wish  I  could 
sell  part  of  it,  but  there  isn't  a  person  in  all  the  world  who 
wants  it. " 


THE  DEVIL'S  AND  OTHER  LINKS        303 

"  What  are  you  going  that  way  for  ?  "  asked  Sylvia.    . 

"  I  want  to  look  at  the  graves.  Come  along — it's  only 
a  step. " 

They  went  through  a  dense  tangle  of  wood  and  came 
out  upon  the  little  plateau  with  the  enclosure  upon  it 
where  John  Burt  and  Kate  had  lingered  on  that  memo- 
rable day  when  Mr.  Joumingham  arrived.  The  wild 
grass  and  vines  had  grown  to  be  very  rank  as  the  season 
advanced,  and  they  now  almost  obscured  the  graves. 
The  place  seemed  sadly  neglected.  The  wild  rose-bush 
had  shed  many  of  its  leaves  and  looked  sparse  and  bare. 
Sylvia  thought  Kate  seemed  singularly  gloomy  and 
reticent.  They  sat  down  on  a  little  heap  of  leaves  near 
by  and  together  they  gave  way  to  the  pensive  associa- 
tions that  the  little  plot  of  ground  awakened. 

"There's  no  use  talking,"  said  Sylvia,  "it  may  be  a 
blessing  to  have  to  give  up  this  place — sell  it,  or  give  it 
to  Mrs.  Heckshent — for  it  is  surely  taking  all  the  spirit 
out  of  you.  It  will  kill  you  to  linger  aroimd  here  among 
all  these  associations.  You  are  growing  as  morose  as 
can  be,  and  I  have  not  seen  you  smile  once  since  Uncle 
Caleb  died." 

"Don't  you  see, "  said  Kate,  "how  necessary  it  is  that 
somebody  should  do  something  in  our  present  circum- 
stances? Never  at  any  time  in  our  lives  has  the  situa- 
tion been  so  dire  and  black.  Here  we  are,  you  and  I, 
sitting  at  the  feet  of  these  memorials  and  neither  of  us 
can  lift  a  hand  or  devise  a  way  to  preserve  even  them 
from  the  disrupting  hand  of  a  stranger.  Doesn't  your 
soul  rise  in  arms  when  you  think  of  an  intruder  ruthlessly 
obliterating  every  sacred  spot  on  the  estate?" 

"Nobody,  of  course,  can  have  our  feelings  for  this 
particular  spot,"  said  Sylvia.  "But  our  feelings  will 
not  even  keep  the  grass  cut.     Nature  does  her  best  to 


304  THE  CONQUERING  OF  KATE 

hide  our  neglect  of  it,  covering  it  now  with  her  autumn 
leaves  and  presently  with  her  snow." 

"Come  away!  Come  away!"  cried  Kat^e,  getting  up 
and  putting  her  hand  to  her  head.  "  I  cannot  stay  here 
another  minute.  Come  down  by  the  river.  Perhaps 
we  can  find  some  comfort  there.  I  must  not  let  my  feel- 
ings interfere  with  my  desire  to  accomplish  in  some 
honourable  way  the  independence  of  this  family.  Think, 
think,  Sylvia.     How  are  we  to  do  it?" 

"You  are  really  getting  morbid,  Kate,"  her  sister 
answered.  "  Everything  returns  to  one  point  with  you — 
you  must  have  brooded  over  it  until  your  head  is  turned. 
I  am  not  upbraiding  you,"  she  said  with  a  suddenly 
changed  tone,  as  she  saw  the  effect  of  her  speech  in  Kate's 
mobile  face;  "I  feel  like  upbraiding  myself  for  not  having 
detected  it  before.  How  I  have  neglected  you !  But  I 
have  had  all  sorts  of  schemes  in  my  head  about  what  we 
could  do.  Let  Mrs.  Heckshent  have  the  place  and  you 
and  I  will  go  down  to  Baltimore.  I'll  cook  and  you  can 
teach  music.  That  will  be  glorious.  Do  you  know,  this 
is  the  first  time  since  that  Englishman  came  that  I  feel 
we  have  really  been  companions. " 

The  delicate  assumption  of  a  superior  condition  in  this 
spontaneous  outburst  was  not  lost  upon  the  elder  sister 
and  she  began  to  protest. 

''Your  solicitousness  is  positively  absurd,"  she  said. 
"I  am  not  morbid.  But  I  cannot  help  thinking  of  the 
awful  fate  to  which  I  summoned  Mr.  Journingham. 
There  never  was  a  moment  when  I  did  not  prefer  your 
companionship  to  any  other.  I  think,  my  dear,  I  should 
be  content  with  it  all  my  life.  If  I  am  at  times  a  little 
melancholy  now,  it  is  because  events  are  so  shaping 
themselves  as  to  deprive  me  of  it.  Oh,  Sylvia,  Sylvia, 
what  are  we  going  to  do  ?     It  is  only  a  question  of  time 


THE  DEVIL'S  AND  OTHER  LINKS        305 

when  Colonel  John  Bussey's  daughters  will  find  them- 
selves out  there  upon  the  highway.  It  seems  as  though 
destiny  ought  to  have  some  other  solution  of  our  condi- 
tion— if  I  could  only  think  it  out. " 

"  Oh,  dear ! "  cried  Sylvia,  "  I  am  tired  of  hearing  about 
events  and  destiny.  Women  seem  to  be  the  special 
victims  of  these  monsters.  Men  don't  appear  to  be 
crushed  by  them.  Aunt  Sussex  forbade  me  to  wish  to  be 
a  man,  but  she  can't  prevent  me  from  wishing  an  able- 
bodied  man  would  come  here  again  and  turn  events 
upside  down  and  reconstruct  destiny  with  audacity. " 

Sylvia's  father  had  often  said  in  her  childhood  days 
that  she  was  the  only  democrat  in  the  family,  and  pre- 
dicted that  whoever  married  her  would  encounter  some 
of  the  sharp  fragments  of  Plymouth  Rock  in  her  char- 
acter. He  must  have  said  this  because  Sylvia  oftener 
disobeyed  his  wishes  than  her  sister  did;  but  still  that 
fact  was  a  very  poor  indication  of  stony  obduracy,  seeing 
that  she  always  promptly  melted  afterward  and  was 
forgiven,  even  as  she  now  was  by  Kate,  who  put  her  hand 
gently  on  her  sister's  arm  and  answered: 

"How  ridiculous  you  are,  my  dear.  You  make  me 
feel  that  I  am  a  great  deal  more  than  two  years  older 
than  my  sister,  when  I  have  to  tell  her  that  Destiny  is 
never  successfully  met  by  Defiance — only  by  Obedience. 
I  have  just  been  learning  that  lesson.  If  I  had  let 
Destiny  alone  and  had  confided  in  her.  Uncle  Caleb 
would  have  removed  all  our  difficulties  through  the 
instrumentality  of  Mr.  John  Burt.  Now,  please  don't 
go  on  any  more  in  this  strain.  I  wonder  if  we  couldn't 
cross  the  stream  at  the  shallows  instead  of  going  all  the 
way  to  the  bridge." 

"We  have  crossed  it  many  a  time,"  said  Sylvia, 
"with  our  stockings  hung  over  our  shoulders,  but  I 


3o6  THE  CONQUERING  OF  KATE 

think  it  is  shallow  enough  now  in  the  autumn  to  pick 
our  way  over  on  the  stones," 

In  executing  this  little  feat  of  crossing  the 
brook  they  both  became  girls  for  a  few  moments, 
and  then  they  went  straight  up  the  mule-path  to 
Unc'l  Dan'l's  and  lit  at  his  homely  door  like  two 
princesses  in  exile. 

The  old  negro  was  sitting  at  his  table  with  the  old 
Bible  spread  open  in  front  of  him.  He  was  turning  the 
leaves  and  looking  at  them  through  a  pair  of  round  iron 
spectacles  over  which  his  shaggy  eyebrows  hung  like 
little  drifts  of  snow.  He  could  not  read  a  word,  but  he 
knew  pretty  well  where  every  favourite  chapter  was, 
and  he  could  put  his  finger  on  most  of  his  favourite  texts. 
Some  unknown  apprehensive  faculty  seized  upon  the 
page  and  print  with  sure  recognition.  The  quickening 
of  his  senses  by  affection  at  times  gave  him  some  kind 
of  clairvoyance. 

"I  knew  you  was  comin',  honey,"  he  said  to  Kate, 
"before  yo'  went  off  on  yo'  long  journey." 

"Why,  Unc'l,  I'm  not  going  anywhere.  The  morning 
was  so  beautiful  we  thought  we  would  walk  over  to  see 
how  you  were." 

Sylvia  came  in  breezily  and  ran  to  him,  seizing  both 
his  hands  and  shaking  them,  till  Kate,  who  saw  him 
wince,  cried  out: 

"Don't — you  forget  his  rheumatism." 

"Why,  what  a  lovely  view  of  the  grove  and  fields  you 
get  from  this  window  now  that  some  of  the  leaves  are 
off,"  said  Sylvia,  looking  out.  "Come  here,  Kate — 
the  river  looks  like  a  silver  serpent  running  through  the 
wood." 

But  Kate,  whose  mood  was  more  reflective,  said,  as 
she  gazed  at  the  fields:     "It  seems  to  express  the  spirit 


THE  DEVIL'S  AND  OTHER  LINKS        307 

of  that  beautiful  poem  of  Tennyson's  you  were  reading 
last  night,  dear: 

'  Tears,  idle  tears,  I  know  not  what  they  mean, 
Tears  from  the  depths  of  some  divine  despair, 
Rise  in  the  heart  and  gather  to  the  eyes 
In  looking  at  the  happy  autumn  fields 
And  thinking  of  the  days  that  are  no  more.'  " 

Sylvia  turned  impatiently  from  the  window,  and 
Unc'l  Dan'l  clung  to  her  idea  of  the  serpent  with  a  per- 
sistency that  belongs  to  the  aged.  He  began  talking 
with  a  manifest  endeavour  to  give  an  air  of  importance 
to  his  manner  and  speech. 

"Come  hyar,  honey,"  he  said  to  Kate;  "I  got  some- 
thin'  on  my  min'  I  bin  wantin'  to  tole  yo'  ever  since  de 
old  Jedge  died.  Yo'  know,  chile,  away  down  Souf  dere 
is  a  sarpent — she  ain't  silver  and  in  plain  sight  like 
Sylvia's — ^but  dey  call  her  de  diamon'  rattler.  Some 
calls  her  de  debil's  link  in  de  chain  of  natur'.  She 
comes  a-crawlin'  and  a-crawlin'  all  de  way  round 
mountains — a-swimmin'  de  rivers — and  windin'  frough 
de  counties.  De  farmer  folk  of  Franklin  think  they  dun 
clared  her  out,  but  some  day  when  de  childer  are  playin' 
roun'  de  doah,  dare  on  a  sudden  on  de  doahstep  rises 
de  sarpent  wid  her  shiney  head  a-pointin'  right  at  'em. 
Where  de  mos'  innocence  is,  dare  she  comes  and  coils 
herself  up  and  lies  a-waitin*  till  no  one's  expectin'  of 
her,  and  den  she  hits  right  out  straight.  Miss  Kate, 
dares  a  diamon'  rattler  in  Franklin  all  ready  to  strike 
yo'  now.  Keep  a  sharp  watch  out  fer  her  risin'  head — 
an'  jump." 

Kate  looked  significantly  at  Sylvia  as  a  little  tremour 
ran  through  them  both.  She  could  frame  no  reply  to 
make  to  Unc'l  Dan'l,  and  sat  there  staring  at  him  won- 


3o8  THE  CONQUERING  OF  KATE 

deringly.  Sylvia  was  inclined  to  look  upon  the  little 
story  as  unimportant,  for  she  had  heard  many  of  Unc'l 
Dan'l's  fabrications.  He  often  created  them  to  interest 
her  sister  and  herself,  whom  he  never  ceased  to  regard 
as  children. 

Kate  was  uneasy  and  restless  and  could  not  content 
herself  long,  so  they  left  Unc'l  Dan'l  and  sauntered  home- 
ward through  the  autumn  noon,  enjoying  the  beauty  of 
the  way,  and  stopping  to  rest  now  and  then  as  they 
gathered  great  clusters  of  bright  leaves. 

"There  is  one  thing  that  has  been  bothering  me  for 
some  time,"  said  Sylvia,  "and  I  believe  it  is  worrying 
you,  too,  so  I'm  going  to  run  the  risk  of  your  displeasure 
and  unburden  my  mind.  What  do  you  suppose  became 
of  John  Burt?" 

"Only  one  thing  could  become  of  him,  dear.  He 
stays  in  the  North  Woods,  as  he  is  utterly  disgusted  with 
Kate  Bussey  and  leaves  her  to  her  fate,  as  she  deserves. 
More  than  that  I  do  not  know,  but  of  that  I  am  certain. 
Oh,  Sylvia,  it  looks  as  though  all  the  good  influences  we 
ever  knew  have  been  withdrawn  from  us.  Can  you  see 
from  this  distance  who  that  is  standing  on  the  front 
steps?" 

"As  I  live,"  said  Sylvia,  "it  is  Mrs.  Heckshent,  and 
her  head  is  up  ready  to  strike.  I  can  see  her  beady 
eye  looking  toward  us.  Unc'l  Dan'l  said  we  were  to 
jump." 

Sylvia  looked  at  her  sister,  who  appeared  as  composed 
as  though  no  evil  confronted  her.  At  all  moments  of 
crisis,  Kate  was  calm. 

"The  only  way  to  jump  in  this  predicament,  Sylvia, 
is  to  meet  our  enemy  with  a  club  of  toleration,"  she 
answered,  as  she  walked  straight  up  the  steps  to  Mrs. 
Heckshent. 


THE  DEVIL'S  AND  OTHER  LINKS        309 

Mrs.  Heckshent  took  a  step  or  two  forward  and  thrust 
a  paper  into  Kate's  hand. 

"I  'lowed  I  could  comer  you  better  than  a  deputy — 
they're  all  so  skittish  o'  ye.  Them's  your  foreclosure 
papers  and  good  luck  to  you.  I'll  come  around 
to-morrer  to  see  what  you  got  to  say  about  'em." 

"You  can  spare  yourself  that  trouble,  Mrs.  Heckshent. 
I  think  the  law  will  allow  me  more  than  one  day  to  con- 
sider them,  and  you  shall  have  your  answer  in  due  time." 

Mrs.  Heckshent  threw  her  head  into  the  air  as  she 
retorted : 

"Ye  ain't  satisfied  with  killing  the  Jedge  and  sendin' 
Fol  off  to  the  ends  of  the  earth,  but  ye  must  insult  me  to 
my  face  and  tell  me  not  to  trouble  myself  about  comin' 
inter  a  house  that's  my  own  by  rights.  We'll  see  about 
that — law  or  no  law.  I  want  to  see  if  you  understand 
them  papers.  You  won't  ask  me  to  have  a  chair,  but 
I'll  stay  just  as  long  as  I  like." 

Kate  felt  the  ignominy  of  being  obUged  to  come  in 
contact  with  such  a  nature,  but  as  Mrs.  Heckshent 
settled  herself  in  the  only  chair  on  the  porch  and  flung 
her  hat  on  a  little  table  near  by  as  if  she  had  come  to 
stay,  the  young  women  sank  do\^n  upon  the  steps,  Kate 
still  holding  the  paper  in  her  hand  and  glancing  signifi- 
cantly at  Sylvia. 

A  deep  wonder  filled  them  both  that  anything  so 
malignant  could  rise  out  of  that  glorified  autumn  noon 
to  assume  such  a  menacing  attitude.  The  indignity  and 
animosity  of  Mrs.  Heckshent's  bearing  seemed  an  inex- 
plicable mystery  to  them.  They  recognized  the  justice 
of  her  claim  but  resented  her  manner  of  presenting  it. 
Kate  was  sensible  of  the  futility  of  it  all  and  sat  there 
quite  listless.  Sylvia  drew  the  paper  from  the  large 
envelope  in  her  sister's  hand,  and  as  she  did  so  Mrs. 


3IO  THE  CONQUERING  OF  KATE 

Heckshent's  vindictive  eyes  followed  her  and  gloated  with 
satisfaction  that  at  last,  after  years  of  waiting,  her  day 
had  come.  There  was  no  Judge  to  oppose  her  now,  and 
no  overseer  to  delay  justice.  She  was  mistress  of  the 
situation,  and  the  two  helpless  women  before  her  realized 
that  dire  fact  to  the  utmost. 

Just  at  that  moment  there  was  a  rustle  behind  them 
and  Aunt  Sussex  came  from  the  hall  closely  followed  by 
a  gentleman.  So  intent  was  Sylvia  upon  examining 
the  paper  that  she  did  not  look  round,  and  Kate  con- 
tinued to  gaze  steadily  into  the  dreamy  vista. 

"What  is  the  amount  of  the  bond?  Behold  the  sum 
thrice  told  !"  exclaimed  a  manly  voice,  and  before  Kate 
and  Sylvia  could  turn,  some  one  with  a  quick,  light 
step  had  slipped  down  the  steps  and  stood  before  them, 
depositing  a  packet  in  the  lap  of  each  of  them  and  making 
a  great  bow  and  flourish. 

They  looked  up  in  amazement  to  see  Tony  Brahm's 
beaming  face  regarding  them,  as  he  urged  Kate  to  open 
her  packet  immediately. 

"I  have  heard  all  the  particulars  from  Aunt  Sussex," 
he  said,  "and  believe  I  am  to  accomplish  a  rescue  after 
all.  I  wanted  to  be  a  Guardian  Angel,  but  didn't  antici- 
pate such  an  opportunity  as  this." 

Sylvia  was  on  her  feet,  staring  once  more  into  the 
dimples,  and  as  she  extended  her  hand  Tony  grasped  it 
with  unusual  vigour  and  felt  a  thrill  of  ecstacy  as  he 
looked  into  the  girl's  eyes,  so  pure  and  radiant  and 
dancing  with  young,  unsullied  life.  He  had  looked 
into  beautiful  eyes  before,  but  they  had  not  the  same 
soft  appeal. 

Kate  made  no  delay  in  doing  as  Tony  bade  her,  and  the 
first  things  that  fluttered  from  the  packet  were  the 
petals  from  the  little  faded  bunch  of  rosebuds  that  John 


THE  DEVIL'S  AND  OTHER  LINKS        311 

Burt  had  placed  there.  Her  heart  beat  fast  at  sight  of 
them,  and  the  next  instant  her  gaze  fell  upon  the  check. 
Ten  thousand  dollars  !  It  was  a  fortune  to  her  fancy  and 
a  release  from  all  her  troubles.  She  sprang  up  instantly 
and  grasped  both  of  Tony  Brahm's  hands.  Then  she 
flew  into  the  hall  and  out  again  to  the  little  table  with 
pen  and  ink.  She  brushed  Mrs.  Heckshent's  hat  away 
with  a  sweep,  and,  seizing  the  pen,  made  the  check 
payable  to  Mrs.  Caleb  Heckshent,  and,  indorsing  it,  passed 
it  over  to  that  personage  with  a  superb  air  of  imperious- 
ness,  saying: 

"Mrs.  Heckshent,  there  is  a  payment  in  part  of  the 
indebtedness.  I  am  negotiating  with  the  Southern 
Improvement  Company  of  New  York  and  will  arrange 
within  thirty  days  to  pay  you  the  balance  with  interest 
to  date — about  six  years'  interest,  I  believe.  You  can 
give  me  a  receipt  in  full  then." 

Mrs.  Heckshent  had  taken  the  check  in  astonishment 
and  was  stooping  to  pick  up  her  hat,  when  Sylvia,  who 
had  been  watching  her  sister  with  deep  interest,  coidd 
contain  herself  no  longer,  and  shouted  : 

"Behold  the  true  mistress  of  Catalpa  Grange !"  and 
made  a  dash  to  embrace  Kate.  Aunt  Sussex  did  her 
best  to  suppress  and  excuse  this  outburst,  and  in  her 
effort  to  restore  equilibrium  they  lost  sight  of  Mrs. 
Heckshent.  No  one  noticed  when  she  went.  She  had 
disappeared  in  a  noiseless  and  mysterious  manner,  and 
in  speaking  of  it  afterward  Sylvia  said  she  was  now 
convinced  that  Mrs.  Heckshent  really  had  some  of  the 
occult  qualities  of  a  serpent.  Presently  Sylvia  became 
aware  of  her  own  little  packet  that  she  had  forgotten 
but  had  been  unconsciously  clutching  while  she  was  so 
deeply  absorbed  in  Kate's  maneuvers. 

"Shall  I  open  it  now?"  she  cried. 


312  THE  CONQUERING  OF  KATE 

"Yes,  by  all  means,"  said  Kate. 

She  tore  open  the  seal  and  disclosed  a  little  box.  This 
she  opened,  and  it  contained  another  box.  Box  after 
box  appeared  until  finally  a  tiny  one  about  an  inch 
square  held  the  daintiest  ring  in  the  world. 

Tony  Brahm  then  approached  her  with  Aunt  Sussex 
hanging  to  his  arm,  and  said  in  an  absurdly  formal 
manner: 

"I  have  Miss  Sussex  Bussey's  full  permission  to  ask 
Miss  Sylvia  Bussey  to  be  my  wife.  I  came  down  here 
to  attend  a  wedding,  and  as  there  is  to  be  none  I  thought 
I  would  get  up  one  of  my  own — if  this  little  lady  is 
willing." 

He  made  a  low  courtesy,  and  taking  Sylvia's  hand 
gallantly  between  his  own,  he  placed  the  ring  upon  her 
finger. 

That  young  lady  stood  in  speechless  astonishment  and 
looked  very  beautiful  in  her  blushing  amazement,  as  she 
said: 

"You  fixed  it  all  up  between  you,  and  never  thought  it 
worth  while  to  give  me  a  chance  to  speak  for  myself — 
and  I  won't  say  a  word  now."  Whereupon  she  burst 
into  hysterical  tears  and  fled  into  the  house. 

And  now  some  weeks  of  the  most  ideal  weather 
ensued,  during  which  Aunt  Sussex  and  Tony  Brahm 
had  things  all  their  own  way  indoors  and  the  season 
reigned  in  exquisite  beauty  out-of-doors.  The  Grange 
came  nearer  to  realizing  a  condition  of  perfection  than 
it  ever  had  since  the  days  of  the  Dame's  regime.  Tony 
Brahm  fitted  easily  into  the  aristocratic  and  peaceful 
home  atmosphere  of  the  place  and  had  an  artless  way 
of  putting  every  one  at  ease.  Leesha  and  Pierson 
never  grew  tired  in  his  service,  and  Tony  himself  found  a 
hundred  little  kindnesses  to  perform  that  enabled  the 


THE  DEVIL'S  AND  OTHER  LINKS        313 

establishment  to  move  noiselessly.  On  no  account 
would  he  allow  any  one  to  be  put  to  any  inconvenience 
for  him,  and  Sylvia  could  not  help  contrasting  his  genial, 
lovable  nature  with  that  of  the  "Onus  Probandi's." 

There  was  much  hustling  and  preparation  on  the  part 
of  Sylvia  and  Aunt  Sussex,  but  they  insisted  that  Kate 
should  take  absolute  rest. 

"You  are  the  true  Princess,  you  know,  dear,  and  have 
brought  about  all  this  happy  condition  of  affairs,"  said 
Sylvia.  "But  even  Princesses  cannot  work  and  devise 
for  other  people  all  the  time.  You  look  so  flaccid  and 
weary,  now  that  the  awful  tension  of  years  is  removed, 
that  I  want  you  to  just  stop  thinking  for  a  year.  So, 
go  right  along  up  to  your  room  and  leave  Aunty  and  me 
to  manage  things.  I  want  you  to  be  well  and  cheerful 
for  my  wedding  next  week." 

Kate  drew  her  sister's  face  down  between  her  hands 
and  kissed  her.  "You  do  look  so  happy,  Syl, "  she  said; 
"and  to  think  we  are  to  be  parted,  after  all.  It  seems 
only  yesterday  you  were  saying  we  could  be  perfectly 
happy  always  if  we  simply  had  each  other. " 

"  Oh,  but  we  will  always  have  each  other, "  said  Sylvia. 
"We  are  not  to  be  parted.  Tony  says  so — and  that  is 
just  the  difference  between  Mr.  Tony  Brahm  and  the 
'Onus  Probandi.'"  But  as  she  saw  the  little  expression 
of  pain  flit  across  her  sister's  face  at  the  mention  of  that 
name,  she  cried:  "Forgive  me,  dear;  I'm  so  happy  I 
don't  know  what  I  am  saying,  for  I've  got  so  much  to 
tell  you  about  our  plans.  We  are  to  go  to  Cuba  on  our 
wedding  trip  and  you  and  Aunty  are  to  go  along.  Then 
when  you  get  rested  down  there  you  can  come  back  in 
the  spring  and  see  to  the  burning  of  your  stumps  and 
things." 

As  Kate  was  about  to  raise  a  protest  she  exclaimed : 


314  THE  CONQUERING  OF  KATE 

"  I  don't  want  to  hear  one  word  against  it.  Tony  says 
you  need  a  sea  voyage  to  settle  your  nerves  and  you  are 
to  have  it — so  there,  now ! " 

"I  should  like  to  know  what  Tony  knows  about  my 
nerves,"  said  Kate,  laughing  in  spite  of  herself,  but 
Sylvia  was  out  of  the  room  before  she  could  finish  the 
sentence. 

After  this  announcement  Tony  beguiled  the  entire 
household  with  all  sorts  of  fairy  stories  about  Cuba  that 
fitted  delightfully  into  the  dreaminess  of  the  hours. 
His  cheery  optimism  soothed  them  all  and  coloured  the 
everyday  occurrences  of  their  uneventful  life  with  a  rosy 
hue.  Even  Kate  sank  into  a  sweet  forgetfulness  and 
drifted  with  the  course  of  things,  giving  no  thought  to 
the  future  and  adapting  herself  entirely  to  the  arrange- 
ments of  others.  She  wondered  in  a  dreamy  way  that 
no  reply  came  to  her  little  letter  of  thanks  she  had  sent 
to  the  Southern  Improvement  Company  for  John  Burt, 
and  spoke  of  it  to  Sylvia.  But  that  busy  young  woman 
replied : 

"  I  have  asked  Tony  about  him  several  times,  and  all 
he  says  is  that  John  Burt  has  wood-pulp  on  the  brain 
and  is  buried  in  the  pine  woods.  That's  just  what  you 
said  yourself,  dear,  isn't  it?" 

In  the  nature  of  things  and  in  accordance  with  the 
active  plans  of  Mr.  Tony  Brahm,  this  indolent  existence 
was  destined  to  come  to  a  speedy  close.  After  much 
anticipation  and  preparation  the  day  of  the  journey 
arrived,  and  on  a  blustering  morning  early  in  November 
Kate  and  Aunt  Sussex  found  themselves  escorted  to 
New  York  by  the  beamiest  couple  in  the  world,  to  take 
the  steamer  for  Cuba.  There  was  not  a  hitch  in  the 
arrangements,  for  all  difficulties  melted  like  magic  before 
Tony's  thoughtful  supervision,  until  he  launched  his 


THE  DEVIL'S  AND  OTHER  LINKS        315 

little  party  on  the  ocean  for  Cuba.  When  the  vessel  was 
well  under  way,  and  they  were  all  nicely  settled  on  board 
ship,  Tony  and  Sylvia  missed  Kate  from  the  group. 
They  found  that  young  woman  sitting  on  deck  snugly 
wrapped  in  her  steamer  blanket,  obhvious  to  all  the 
world  and  buried  in  her  own  fancies. 

"You  appear  to  be  awfully  lonely,  dear,"  said  Sylvia, 
as  they  approached  her. 

"Then  appearances  behe  me,"  said  Kate,  "for  I  was 
enjoying  the  motion  of  the  vessel  and  thinking  how 
serenely  happy  one  can  be  on  the  water.  That  senti- 
ment of  Read's  about  the  ship  rings  in  my  head  and 
seems  so  apropos  at  this  moment.  I  have  been  hum- 
ming it.     Do  you  want  to  hear  it?" 

"Oh,  wait,"  said  Sylvia,  "till  I  tell  you  some  news. 
You  can  sing  with  some  feeling  after  you  have  heard  it. 
Tony  has  just  received  a  letter  from  John  Burt  and  he 
isn't  in  the  North  Woods  at  all.  He  is  just  in  Cuba.  We 
never  could  have  coaxed  you  to  go  if  you  had  known  it, 
could  we  ?  Now  I-  know  you  feel  more  like  singing.  Gro 
on  with  your  song. " 

Kate  made  no  reply,  but,  turning  her  head  away, 
softly  crooned: 

"  O,  happy  ship, 
To  rise  and  dip 

With  the  blue  crystal  at  your  lip. 
O,  happy  crew — 
My  heart  with  you, 
Sails  and  sails  and  sings  anew." 


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